welcome to the centre for disease control

Well, as my body catalogues and adds to the inventory yet another one of the 15 billion Western European microbes that I have not been exposed to, I would like to take the opportunity to announce what a complete and utter arse my work colleague is. While he has the luxury of sick days, evidently he'd much prefer to play the martyr and come coughing and hacking and wheezing to work so he could be Mr Stoic when I suggested several times that he GO HOME ('no, no, I can manage') but at the same time took great delight in announcing to everyone how absolutely terrible he felt (all the while trying to blame his sickness on me and a trifling cold I had 2 weeks ago, rather than say, his sick-with-the-flu mother with whom he spent the weekend).

So having spent the night with a raging fever, spasms, and a head that felt like it was being crushed by a bulldozer, it was with some difficulty that attempted to stagger my way to apartment number 2 to wait for the electrician, whose visit window was between 10am and 2pm. So I was a fraction (20min) late in getting there, and yup, he'd already passed. So no chance to get another visit before Monday, which we will now also be billed for.
I think a voodoo doll might be in order.
jab jab! jabjabjabjabjab!!!

Speaking of incredibly painful and torturous things, I went to see some experimental cinema at the centre wallonie-bruxelles with a very old Australian buddy who was passing through the city. He's a bit of a globetrotter that one. Now don't get me wrong, I like experimental art as much as the next left-wing utopian-socialist university graduate. But there's limits. And the short series of films I watched passed those limits to the point that I was ready to chew my own head off rather than watch one more minute. And my, can't a minute last a long time...Luckily it was cheap, though not as cheap as looking out my window, and frankly staring out my window for 1 hour straight would have given me about as much satisfaction...