Sleep is not happening.

I made an appointment at student health for tomorrow. I know they can't do much for chronic pain, but maybe they can at least get me a better ankle brace, since this one is kind of collapsing.

Tamiflu-assisted greetings. I am definitely feeling better. I'm well enough to stress at The Girl for the mess the kitchen's got into while I've been too ill to go there. So I must be improving.

Erk, Hil - pain affecting sleep is not good. I hope student health can help. Good splints are a pain preventative, for me - I hope they do the same for you.

ita, here's wishing you good sleep and no migraines.

Tramadol gave me the worst headaches (and vomiting) so I only had it a few months. It's a great drug if it doesn't make you sick, though.

Irish wheaten bread, toasted (am actually eating this for breakfast).

What is it with potential personal care assistants? They come for interview. They seem enthusiastic. I offer them a job. They accept job. Then later I talk to them again, e.g. to ask for references, and they tell me they've changed their mind and they're unable to accept the job after all.

Am I coming across as that much of a scary potential employer? It really is a great job - I pay well, it's part-time hours for people who have other commitments, and it's mainly really easy work. So weird.

People that do that are flakes, Seska. I mean that in the nicest way, but nobody ever became an attendant because her life was free of personal issues...I thought it would be different in a different country, though.

erikaj - I'm with you on the flakey thing, but I can't work out why it keeps happening to me. I work my way through the list of 'potential' people and they all turn me down. Blah. Fortunately, I think I've now hit on one who actually wants the job and will do it well.

My mother is already driving me insane.

What part of my facing the screen and looking at a very official form seems to invite conversation about Michael Jackson's children and their supposed paternity?

Gronk. Today is definitely going to be a day spent at home. No way am I walking anywhere with my ankle hurting this badly.

What part of my facing the screen and looking at a very official form seems to invite conversation about Michael Jackson's children and their supposed paternity?

I suppose it depends on the form.

What part of my facing the screen and looking at a very official form seems to invite conversation about Michael Jackson's children and their supposed paternity?

Maybe you should ask her who this Michael Jackson person is?

Just respond absently with total non-sequeters. "Yes, thank you, that will be fine."

"No, I had the mashed rutabaga."

"3.5 million, unless you include interest."