I'm not going to talk about that enormous elephant in the corner because, right now, it just seems too private, so forgive me for the silence. My mind is a swirling tidal pool of emotions, I'm trying to keep my head above it, and so hoping we can fight for this. Right now, though, I shall try to regale you with silly tales of a more mundane variety.
My car blew up this morning, or boiled over, or something. Just here, on the hill (luckily this time not in the fast lane). It was the last thing I needed. There we were, mindlessly heading up the same old hill I've headed up every work day since 1998, when the car made a nasty little noise, almost like it was throwing up, and promptly, well, threw up... water and steam billowed out of the bonnet. Zzzzz. I'm boring myself with this story.
My throat is sore. Those little buggy bastards with their spiked soccer boots are practicing for the World Cup. In the back of my throat. Silly things, considering the beautiful stadiums we've made here at the tip of Africa, especially for the occassion.
No, I'm afraid my wit and sunny disposition evades me. I think I'll crawl back into that corner with the sad elephant, shall I?