And once again an anime character perfectly summarises the mood of the post. Even if including them does violate one of the blogging rules I talked about below.
I've been back in Singapore for over a day now but I haven't written any posts since the day before I left Adelaide. For those who have been enjoying my several month long posting streak, sorry to let you down! I'm going to break one of the first laws of blogging here and dedicated a post to why I have had this gap.
ASIDE: I figure I’ve already thoroughly broken the laws that state you’re supposed to stay on topic and have a site with a light background with dark text that uses the Georgia font for headings and a logo with gloss on it, so one more won’t hurt.
Unfortunately I've developed quite a bad cold suspiciously well timed to my arrival back here. So far I've counted sore bones and joints, glands along the sides of my jaw and in my throat are swollen, sore throat, blocked ears and nose, really bad headaches, coughing, an irrational desire to listen to ridiculously long loops of only Dean Martin, Rod Picott and Jack Johnson music turned down low in the background while eating nothing but mandarins and German pretzels… typical symptoms.
I'm entertaining the notion that it is some sort of Australian Federal Government immigration conspiracy. They didn't want me returning to Singapore for the next few months because they'd prefer I spend the money in Australia. It makes perfect sense; while I was in Adelaide I was walking through Rundle Mall buying Aussie gifts, here in Singapore I can barely get out of my chair to have my usual obsessive four showers a day. It's worked.
Is that my temperature or my tax file number?
ASIDE: Just over two hours have passed since I wrote the first part of this post and I think the joints in my fingers have stopped burning enough to keep typing. I need a scribe. A scribe would just be bril.
Continuing this train of conciousness…
If what I think I was writing is correct, I'm thinking I may have to go to the Australian High Commission here and ask for some antidote. Why are the British Council and High Commission, the Aussie High Commission and the American Embassy right next to each other, but the Canadian High Commission is somewhere else?
Makes as much sense as the underlying premise of the first part of this post.
ASIDE: Okay another half an hour has passed. Writing this post was probably not the smartest thing to do. Then again leaving your battery in your electric razor so it buzzed in your check-in luggage and scared airport security wasn’t a smart thing to do either. Not that I’ve ever done that… twice… and once with an electric toothbrush. They weren’t even that good.
Continuing this train of conciousness…
What astounds me is that my beautiful late mum was able to endure over 12 years of chemotherapy which gave her symptoms that were infinitely worse than any of the silly stuff I'm complaining about, and yet she put up with it and lived… for 12 f-ing years. It absolutely boggles the mind, though it does show how much she cared for us that she would go through all of that just so (her words) she could see us grow up and allow us to have memories of her. Bummer, now I'm choking up a bit for another reason.
I think I need some cream of chicken soup, a nice thick blanket and a book of cliches. Or maybe some Mark Twain reading. No, some Dr Karl Kruszelnicki reading. Yeah, that'll all straighten me out.
If I've unwittingly made even more spelling and grammar mistakes than I usually do here, forgive me. Perhaps at some point I'll come back here and delete half of this post. I think I even talked about shopping trolleys here at one point; I mean what do shopping trolleys have to do with having a cold? Wait, did I talk about shopping trolleys? I know I talked about magazine subscriptions and electric toothbrushes.
I like electric toothbrushes, they tickle. Unlike blog posts which take (checking…) over three hours to type. You know what? I need a scribe.
Now if you'd excuse me, I'm about to apply several thousand eye drops and drop my burning finger joints into an ice bath. Preferably with my fingers and hands still attached.