Felix Culpa

I have been awake for an hour now, and I have yet to do anything productive. I slept quite well (though I awoke at half past eight from a strange nightmare), but my limbs feel leaden, heavy, and I could quite easily curl back up under the sheets and lie there for the rest of the morning at least. My nightmare was strange because it contained images I have not had to worry or dream about for a few years now, and yet there they were, whole and intact, for me to run from on this cold January morning. And run I did. 

Someone important told me last night that they knew I was a fighter. I knew this - I have spent too long being angry at the world not to :P - but it was sweet to know that others have seen me so. That others might describe me so. I had a wonderful time talking to this person, and I hope they know that. 

Today, I will have company. But first I need to be productive - I need to get my Dramaturgy finished, “collect for output”-ed, and sent to the technician so he can send it for printing. I need to finish tidying my room, and write out a letter to accompany the sending-back of my new shirt, which has frayed. I need to do the reading required for my ‘New’ Europe class tomorrow, and maybe paint my nails. 

Be gone, lethargy!