||[Feb. 14th, 2009|12:31 am]
Had whisky, went to bed... Coughed a lot, got up, coughed, drank pint of water... Chest hurts like I've been kicked by a mule.. or at least a hinny. Interesting fact about mules they are usually sterile.
Hmmm... Those last two sentences seemed fairly sane before I read them back to myself, either I'm running a fever or it's the whisky.
Early this morning I had another dream I was living in Charlottesville. Not as vivid as the first one but very clear. I was in an antique store buying furniture for my new house. All other details have faded during the day. I've only been to Charlottesville twice, to visit Dr Paul, and although it seems very pleasant I held no ambition to move there... What's this all about?
Please I want to stop coughing I've been punished enough! I fear this indulgence may not be worth the paper it's written on.
And so (back) to bed.