Welcome to the last week of my life. My conversational skills are atrophying at a terrifying rate, thanks in no small part to the all-engrossing, co-dependent relationship I've developed with my computer. I'm struggling to finish sentences, think of words, articulate generally, which would be a bigger problem if I had anything of note to talk about apart from, well, the all-engrossing, co-dependent relationship I have developed with my computer. Thankfully LBB is fast becoming accustomed to my vagaries dressed as cute quirks. If I leave my glasses on I can almost get away with the mad, vacant professor look...
I am rather looking forward to having this finished in a couple of weeks time and regaining some semblance of a life. In the interests of full disclosure, the whole balance thing has never really been my forte but even I'm beginning to realise that all this solitary time in my head is sending me a bit loopy. I cannot wait for Cornwall this weekend. Some fresh air, some quaint English seaside towns and the chance to bust out the six 'mixed tape' CDs we made for our Mallorca road tripping back in the days before Lovely Boy earned his new moniker.
I have about 10,000 words to write before then and a job application to complete if I can manage to change brain gears in time. With any luck I'll have worked out how to re-activate my previously rather sophisticated out-loud speaking skills by Friday too. But one shouldn't hope for too much.
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