I'm sick. Out of energy. Jet-lag and gastrointestinal issues have combined to bring me down.
Sweaty. Hollow-legged. Distanced from myself. I feel tottery, taller than I really am, unbalanced. The world is a different colour, it feels different on my skin. It's like I have expanded then contracted and there is a space of not-me that hovers all around in that vacuum. Intangible yet stale-smelling, metallic like ozone on my tongue, I am surrounded by an unfamiliar aura that I must carry with me.
My stomach is bloated and gurgling, not sour but gaseous and painful. Went for a fart last night and shat myself.
I slept for 12 hours but woke even more exhausted, more depleted.
Hopefully, I'll be better by tomorrow, for the flight to Melbourne. It took to double the usual FF-point to get an upgrade thanks to fucking Christmas. Oh and the plane is departing from the new Terminal 3 at Changi Airport. Facilities are limited. Just hope the toilets are functional...
Need to sign some documents in the office today for my restaurant shares in Hong Kong, but I'd rather be at home in bed. Might start seeing some money back from this investment by the end of January.
Oh and it's going to be difficult over Christmas for me to do much posting and reading. So look after yourselves while I'm gone. I'll be carving the roast turkey.
OTHER MONKEYS SAID
You are leaving Izzy alone in your apartment again, (or not alone if you know what I mean).
I hope you have at least put your Persian rug into safe keeping.
The rug is at the dry-cleaners already after a red-wine incident...