Is it the fucking weekend yet?

My internal clock is all sorts of out-of-whack. Going in to work on Monday two weeks in a row has been a major contributor. I woke up this morning all sorts of happy, because a mere thirty-three hours from then, I'd be on my way home for a weekend of cleaning. And rest. Fucking October rendering me unable to breathe.

As I was brushing my teeth I realized that Japanese class starts tomorrow night. Fuck. Thirty-seven hours, then.

Worse than post-con depression, I think I've got a post-con cold, though I'm willing to bet that it's not entirely unrelated to the change in weather. September first hit, and the temperature dropped ten degrees, like someone flipped a switch. And since last week, it's been cloudy and dropped another fifteen. It doesn't help, either, that I was hollering on Saturday and Sunday, but since I was fine on Monday, I thought I would remain so. Nope. I have no voice today, and am more congested than is comfortable. It sucks.

At least I got to drop in to weeaboo club today, if only for a few minutes. GTO was playing, and there was brief discussion of the convention. I couldn't argue against ignant!weeaboos who foolishly thought that NYAF was lame and that Otakon is the best shit ever. Weak.

Damn, I can't wait until Saturday! ... MLIA