May 10th, 2004

(no subject)

Met with landlord at 8am, me looking like shit, as that's what I felt like. Turns out his day job is in a pharmacy; not sure if he's the pharmacist or not. He did offer to get meds for me, which I didn't catch at the time, but I'll definitely look into.

Thinking about calling my Mom and griping to her for a while. Historical source of sympathy, I suppose, and sympathy is a nice thing to have after a night of puking on my keyboard. Haven't figured out whether I'm sick, food-poisoned, having a med reaction, or random other cause. Brain working at about 60%.