General Apathy

I cannot call in sick on my first week of work. Not even if I am. I feel awful, though. Sinuses and general achy nausea. Not enough sleep in the last few days, I think, has frazzled my immune system a bit.

So my day goes: drag self to work, take abbreviated lunch hour to make up for the fact that I left early due to illness yesterday, run posters through a stupid laminating machine (whee; my job is so exciting), then drag myself home in time for Affils. Then collapse. In the meantime, I just hope I don't wind up with a nosebleed like I did yesterday. Or at least that my sinuses don't explode.

I kind of wish I could get more excited about Affils being tonight, but I don't have the energy. I'm sure I'll muster something later on. After all, I only just woke up.

Mr Postman

Session ran long, which I guess isn't surprising, seeing as most of it was character gen. Still managed to get some interesting things going on, though, as connections are already being made and dodgyhoodoo, due to an all-one botch, nearly got himself arrested by kicking people's windows in after his car got altogether screwed up by a local thug. Jon and Maria seem to have enjoyed themselves, too, which is a bit of a relief.

cholten99 delivered post to the house yesterday. He did ring the doorbell but since people tend to ring every doorbell in the block if they've forgotten keys or something, I tend to ignore it if I'm not expecting anyone. However, the post is no longer there, and seeing as it didn't have my address on it and dodgyhoodoo has been in the situation where someone opened his payslip envelope in the hopes that there would be a way of getting money out of the contents, the fact that one of the envelopes apparently felt like my new chequebook does not leave me hopeful that said post will ever return. At best, it's been put back in the post with a "Return to Sender" message on it. At worst, someone's going to try to use my chequebook. Thankfully HSBC has my signature on file, and I don't have any money in the account anyway, but that's beside the point. He complains about no one ringing and getting together anymore, and yet he doesn't pick up the phone and say, "I want to drop some of your post off; when's convenient?" or even ring and say, "Where are you? I've just dropped off post". You don't drop onto people's doorsteps unannounced, and I don't care how good friends you are. On New Year's, I wouldn't drop on weaselbitch's doorstep unannounced bearing chocolate -- I texted first. Surely that's courtesy? Anyway, it's done now. I'll have to drop a few messages to the bank and let them know what's happened. Wonder what else I lost. I don't have the energy or patience for this.

7th Sea on Sunday, and apparently corone wants to have it at his. This is so we can sit in the back garden and "scare the neighbours". Between my tendency to get migraine if I sit in the sun too long and the fact that the summer is playing merry fucking hell with my sinuses, I don't see how I'm going to manage that if such is the plan. On the other hand, I feel a bit of a poor sport for complaining when it's all about the nice weather for the rest of the gang. Then again, the more I miss and the more I think about it, the less enthused I am about 7th Sea in general, what with one thing or another. I still don't know what I'm going to do about that, and I need to decide soon.

Weekend approaching. It can't come soon enough. This has not been a good week.