…was simply terrible. Something caught me, some illness or whatever. The result was that almost all day i lay in my room hardly moving, in the better times reading the earlier mentioned book. I managed to finish it by the afternoon, don’t ask me how.
By the way, i was really scared that i couldn’t go out tonight with my friends—they called me yesterday too, just to lure me in, but i was like “man, i’ve fever, i feel sick, don’t wanna”. So, that was it.
Luckily it seems that a night’s sleep managed to purge me of that thing (what a funny choice of verb, considering that i didn’t eat anything yesterday after nine in morning)—now this reminded me of that conceptual fish that made Eric Sanderson so ill in Aunt’s hotel (Willow hotel).