What was that all about? Ad's gone now… this is like poltergeist advertising or maybe they're just fucking with my head for the fun of it. Now you see it. Now you don't?
I'm too tired to know. I know on the grand scheme of things working 11 straight days (it'll be 12 tomorrow. A round dozen. How nice.) isn't all that major. But I'm utterly shagged anyway. All I wanna do is curl up in a small ball and let the next 62 days flow past. Two calendar months. Please gods, let me wake up tomorrow and it be July.
Tomorrow I have to really start promoting the new French service. I was gonna do it today, but I had the little matter of the Welsh worksheet to finish off, and it turned any remaining braincells to mush. Oh, that and the 6.30am routine. I can't believe I was working by 7.30am. Probably good that I was because I'd had it by lunchtime.
Ah, enough, enough already. The next entry, I promise, will be coherant, so long as these strange little guerilla ads fuck of and stay fucked off.
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