So, a month from now, I'm going to be in London again. For freeeeeee! Wheee! Twice in a year... I'm such a little traveller, aren't I? The fact that I'm flying on September 11 shouldn't dim my bulb at all, right? It will be perfectly safe, right? Nothing to worry about, right? Right? RIGHT?
Truth be told, I'm scared as hell. But if don't fly out of fear, that means we'll have given those bastards just a little bit more victory.
And that's all I have to say about that.
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This is one of those days where there's loads of stuff going on in my head, but I'm just too frazzled to write about it. No time, no patience. And I hate the fact that Iím being so inconsistent with this thing.
I've got a list of things I want to tell you about, but right now, I'm more concerned about what appears to be three new hives that have sprung up on my arm. Dammit! I'm not ON the penicillin anymore! Do I have to be on Benadryl for the rest of my life? Mind you... doesn't Benadryl have speed in it? And wouldn't that make me lose weight? And have I just innocently jumped into a spiral of weight-addled drug abuse that will one day serve as the plot of an excellent made-for-TV movie starring Meredith Baxter Birney or Nancy McKeon?
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Right. I've a busy afternoon ahead of me, lovelies. No need to ruin my life right this moment.
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