A Bag Loaded With Hundreds of Stories

But I am not going to tell everything. Just the very recent one. Quite significant... at least to me.

There was this burden that I desperately need to let go and if I don't, it will slowly eat the inside of me.

For the first time ever in 24 years I let my guts do the talking.

They did.

And there's not even the slightest tinge of regrets. In fact I feel good, really good (though the first 10 minutes was the worst 10 minutes so far in 2006).

But there's only two days in Weekend. Come Monday and the butterflies are going to multiply inside the stomach, 100 times more that the original amount.

I need a paperbag. Oh perhaps the ability to shield and make myself invisible from selected people.

Life goes on... If it doesn't turn out the way it's supposed to be (in my case 'THE WAY I WANT IT TO BE'), I have 4 days worth of outstation in two weeks time.

Perhaps I should jot down yesterday in my pink, feathery diary and create a special bookmark for it.

I should be worrying about it but instead, I feel quite sleepy. Having to force myself to get up at 9 just to give a wake-up call causes me to yawn like nobody's business, even after a strong Today's Brew. The pants are screaming to be pressed, the top is shouting for a sew, the proposal is demanding for a touch-up...

The beauty of procrastination.

So, do you guys miss me?