Freckles & Doubt (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
freckles_and_doubt) wrote2008-10-06 05:44 pm
freckles_and_doubt) wrote2008-10-06 05:44 pm
Entry tags:
can't talk, indexing. Also, dead.
Darn it. Teh Internets, bless them, seem unable to give me a picture of Will Smith being beaten against the side of a car by a flailing alien tentacle. Witterers are please to imagine same, as an approximation of my current state.
The being-beaten sensation is peculiarly appropriate, given the complete absence of the weekend from the "being useful in the indexing stakes" slate. I was draggy and out of it all Saturday, and then woke up at 3am on Sunday morning with the most epic, nasty and virtuoso manifestation yet of Sid the Sinus Headache - I swear the little bugger was hammering a six-inch railroad spike through my right temple, causing me to lie in bed and whimper helplessly for about twenty minutes until I could rouse and find a painkiller. He was almost certainly laying railroad tracks, as the headache migrated gently through Sunday from right temple, to centre forehead, to left temple, to just above the left ear. It came accompanied by a wild temperature and nausea, to the point where I couldn't actually sit up for more than about five minutes at a time throughout Sunday. Happy illness ironies: I was feeling too sick to eat anything, which means I couldn't take the Advil which would have sorted out the sinus headache. It's these little details which tell you the Cosmic Wossnames are poking each other in the ribs and snickering. On my week of leave, too. No fair.
Anyway. I'm still headachy today, but put in two chapters worth of indexing with a relative presence of brain. I seem to be suffering from a profusion of entries, which I may have to ruthlessly rationalise once I've finished.
X-Files report: I'm actually getting to like Doggett, he's a believable and mostly likeable character. I could happily watch him and Scully interact for several seasons, but I'm all doom-laden because I know they don't. Agent Reyes has just been introduced. Agent Reyes put my teeth completely on edge within about three seconds of her first appearance, and it's only getting worse. Possibly the only reason to continue watching the bloody series with her as a feature is in the vague hopes that they accidentally land a spaceship on her and squash her flat. She's a disgusting combination of superciliousness and sheer stupid flakiness, and when she stands there pontificating smugly about her "feelings" and "openness" while simultaneously refusing to believe anything Scully says, I want to haul off and punch her. That episode about the Native American shamanistic sickness-eater was amazing, though. In a slightly gross way.
The being-beaten sensation is peculiarly appropriate, given the complete absence of the weekend from the "being useful in the indexing stakes" slate. I was draggy and out of it all Saturday, and then woke up at 3am on Sunday morning with the most epic, nasty and virtuoso manifestation yet of Sid the Sinus Headache - I swear the little bugger was hammering a six-inch railroad spike through my right temple, causing me to lie in bed and whimper helplessly for about twenty minutes until I could rouse and find a painkiller. He was almost certainly laying railroad tracks, as the headache migrated gently through Sunday from right temple, to centre forehead, to left temple, to just above the left ear. It came accompanied by a wild temperature and nausea, to the point where I couldn't actually sit up for more than about five minutes at a time throughout Sunday. Happy illness ironies: I was feeling too sick to eat anything, which means I couldn't take the Advil which would have sorted out the sinus headache. It's these little details which tell you the Cosmic Wossnames are poking each other in the ribs and snickering. On my week of leave, too. No fair.
Anyway. I'm still headachy today, but put in two chapters worth of indexing with a relative presence of brain. I seem to be suffering from a profusion of entries, which I may have to ruthlessly rationalise once I've finished.
X-Files report: I'm actually getting to like Doggett, he's a believable and mostly likeable character. I could happily watch him and Scully interact for several seasons, but I'm all doom-laden because I know they don't. Agent Reyes has just been introduced. Agent Reyes put my teeth completely on edge within about three seconds of her first appearance, and it's only getting worse. Possibly the only reason to continue watching the bloody series with her as a feature is in the vague hopes that they accidentally land a spaceship on her and squash her flat. She's a disgusting combination of superciliousness and sheer stupid flakiness, and when she stands there pontificating smugly about her "feelings" and "openness" while simultaneously refusing to believe anything Scully says, I want to haul off and punch her. That episode about the Native American shamanistic sickness-eater was amazing, though. In a slightly gross way.
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Hope he doesn't follow it by running goods trains!
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He seems to have finished for the nonce, thank the Cosmic Wossnames. If I could kick the nausea, we'd be A-OK.
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All the best with the continued indexing.