So I spent a sunny, lazy week in a luxury apartment in Spain 3 weeks ago and already it seems like some crazy, fading dream. While I was away, The Boyfriend had the flu and spent the week watching seasons 1-3 of Battlestar Galactica. This week, I have the flu, or some intermittent, headachey, body-achey variant thereof, and I have spent the last 4 days catching him up.
I'm having trouble not believing every tall blond woman I see isn't a cylon.
As ever, I am plagued with guilt about not being at work, but this time I'm fighting it. I'm ill, damnit. I'll do what we always do. Fight 'em until we can't.
Oh, no. That's something else.
I'm having trouble not believing every tall blond woman I see isn't a cylon.
As ever, I am plagued with guilt about not being at work, but this time I'm fighting it. I'm ill, damnit. I'll do what we always do. Fight 'em until we can't.
Oh, no. That's something else.
