Ill

Life has finally dealt me a blow of flu. Or maybe I dealt it to myself.
Whatever it is, I finally got tired of being plauged with a nose than runs like a tap, a sore buccal cavity, an unquenchable thrist that has set me depleting the house's water supply, and boy, the company that produces the tissue paper brand 'Tessa' should really reward me with a loyal customer award of sorts.

So I headed down to the nearest GP, met face-to-face with a multilingual receptionist who reiterated 'please have a seat first' in 3 different languages succesively but (alas!) could not pronounce my name, only to find out that I am most probably allergic to air-conditioning.

It was thus not a surprise to feel nasal cavity turning sore some 10 minutes after CS100 lecture began . Fortunately, I had the comfort of Sarah's strawberry tiramisu nestling in my stomach to distract me.

CS100 was a torture today, with sore nostrils and the after effects of Benedryl plaguing me throughout. It certainly did not help that Sarah and I sat through today's pop quiz with everyone around us copying from whatever sources they could get their hands on. Now, I am either a victim of the bell curve, or a victim of my mule-like stubborness to adhere to my conscience.

Anyway, I trudged home alone on a surprisingly half-filled 179a. Somehow, walking at a reduced pace opens my eyes to interesting sights along the way. Boon Lay never fails to amuse me.

And Today's dinner was spent huddled in a corner of Subway while a cacophony of westernized accents chorused through the air. It has become apparent that Clementi is host to many international schools, some of which were throwing a ball around the restaurant as I clamped my aching jaws around the Subway Melt.

The walk to and from West Coast Plaza was good for my lungs, though it would have been better if I had a filter of sorts to shield myself from the unearthly emissions from the cars zipping by.

School has been kind enough to give us students a recess week. And no, it does not refer to a week where lessons are suspended. The recess week, in all effect, translates to 'catch up on past readings - write essays - do projects - do more readings - and if you manage to manage your time well you can still squeeze in get-togethers and other miscellaneous stuff - study' week.

I am apprehensive. Now to translate my list of 'to-dos' in to a timetable, as long as I do not succumb to Benedryl's poetic creation of a somnambular state.