Still sick, still tired, still hate work.
I had a lot of blood tests done recently, but apparently nothing is majorly physically wrong with me.
Why do I have so much trouble getting out of bed, then?
Ah well, cats are enough to keep me going over the horrible, evil winter. Especially big squishy ones like this:
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I had a lot of blood tests done recently, but apparently nothing is majorly physically wrong with me.
Why do I have so much trouble getting out of bed, then?
Ah well, cats are enough to keep me going over the horrible, evil winter. Especially big squishy ones like this:

VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
I picked up some more Paul Hindemith the other day:
When lilacs last in the door-yard bloom'd. A Requiem "For those we love"
It's dark, brooding and really rather good. Thank you for the heads up. Funnily enough I would have come across him anyway through my studies. I'm doing my dissertation on Adorno's aesthetics and Adorno references him a lot. Although it is only to constantly point out what a charlatan he is. But Adorno's a right old moody-guts when it comes to music. For him it's serialism or nothing.
Anyways, hope you're feeling better. take care