The screaming moists...

Don't know why, but my current mental state reminds me of that episode of Futurama where they get tugged beneath the ocean. Leela becomes convinced that Fry has sucumbed to 'ocean madness', and goes on a miniature tirade about it. "Its ocean madness alright. Sailors call it aqua dementia, the deep down crazies, the wet willies, the screaming moists..." I've got that... except not underwater... or in any way related to water. Okay look, just let it go.

My back hurts. In other news... well what did I expect, after breaking things off I cannot expect to be on a priority list. However, the two nights in a row supposedly-out-hanging-then-quasi-bailing is a little much. Isn't it? I'm sure its not.

And I am checking my email, its hump day and dammit I want that dream to come true. Received several emails in the past twelve hours, all lovely and pleasing to the eye, but none the ones I want. Ridiculous really. And suddenly I have nothing to say. I'm tired and cranky and already on my second cup of coffee. Less than four weeks to Oxford, just over two weeks until Montreal (can I just say WOOT), I'm becoming increasingly restless. All those 'what-ifs' are starting to come together, my lease having arrived yesterday and bags starting to be packed. So the nomad shifts locales, on to a new life, a fresh start.