Gibt es heute nicht viele zu schreiben. Ich bin krank. Alles das Ich wünche zu tun ist Tee zu trinken und Doktor Who zu bewachen.

-7:15 pm-
(the expanded English version)

The world shrinks into a snowglobe miniature when you've got a cold. Future events, previously weighing constantly on the mind, become meaningless -- nothing exists but the here and now, and even that closes in on itself. The senses are dulled, probably from the generous lining of mucous in the head. The body enters a state of suspended animation. Suddenly, the philosophical yearnings of yesterday, the higher impulses and the uplifting emotions are all swallowed up in the more immediate need of fuzzy PJs and something (possibly entertaining, but anything that changes position will do) playing on the TV screen. Doctor Who is good.