It's like Annie's musical. How did it go again?

"So ya gotta hang on
'Til tomorrow
Come what may
Tomorrow! Tomorrow!"

(It's annoying, isn't it.)

The Day Before Tomorrow:

Bed ridden, mostly. I did go see the physiotherapist, who fixed my shoulder with some electroshock contraption (which cost fifty quid). But other than that, I only got up to piss. I don't even remember if I flushed.

I was rather petulant last night, though. Perhaps that didn't help matters in terms of my sleeping arrangements, and going to bed angry is not a good idea. I remember distinctively having to wake up at three in the morning to boil water, because I had a sore throat.

Nevermind. None of this will make sense after tomorrow. It's been so rehashed, that it's become comfortably numb.

Or maybe that's because I've taken six Panadol in the last four hours.