I hate my flesh-sack

I have had several days running of being too sickly to do anything much.  I guess I had forgotten just how chronically ill I am.  Nothing is happening that hasn’t a bunch of times before, but is worse than it has been for just long enough to have caught me as an unpleasant surprise reminder of how lame my life is.

So many days laying about in my filth and PJs. So much failing to do anything.

At least I am hopefully getting it out of my system now. Rather than while I am away.
In travel news, I am posting this from my phone to test that I will be able to travel blog from the phone while I am away. Though it does mean having to deal with autocomplete.

Earlier in the week, tent village at orientation week sucked. They just aren’t full of useful stuff and information anymore. They are becoming more and more just scams to milk money out of the children.

Also, my flat inspection went fine in spite of my utter failure to actually clean anything. It turns out they really don’t care. In the process they also told me that I won’t be moved out for at least a year, though from June or July onward I will be living on a building site and am likely to be moved into the new units in the back tower, so I can have multiple years in living on a building site.

Also, the Tuesday night date I thought I had - it having been planned the week before but never confirmed.  Turned out not to be a thing, and substitute plans didn't pan out.  I sort of wasted an afternoon/evening holding out for them, but I really would have wasted that time regardless [this is one of those times when I really want to use the word 'irregardless' instead, because fake words are fun - though fake words being considered real by my spell checker makes them less fun].
Several of my friends keep telling me off for being too forgiving of the semi-imaginary-one.  But I like his face, and I keep believing he means well - he is just almost as useless as a significant other as I am at being a human at all.