It's nothing to you, but it keeps me alive

I've recently found myself suddenly struck down by term 4-itis, leaving me stranded in the middle of last week with an urgent need to not be at work. I've wondered about the cause - the weather, things currently being in a state of flux, costume anxiety... but perhaps the best explanation is that I've been at work without a break since August and still have 8 uninterrupted weeks to go. 8 weeks is both a crushingly long time and a mere blink before we head home - I'm Shröedinger's exchange teacher, simultaneously wishing it away and cherishing every minute. Until you open my box, at least.

...BRILLIANT!

It's been quite an odd week, at least compared to the others of our extremely average existence - a variety of things seem to have stirred up the nest a bit. I don't know how I feel about this - on one level the ants in my pants seem to be enjoying the routine change but on another I just really want to be wasting time on my own terms. I should probably stop thinking every idea is a really good one.

...anybody got a Gryffindor tie I can borrow?

And four beers, thanks

I don't know if it was the daily beers, the constant meals out, no-money poisoning or all of the above, but I am mentally all over the road at the moment; I find my mind drifting constantly. Japan is well and truly Narnia-like, I said to myself as I drifted off last night. The only problem is that rather than grand adventuring with Aslan, I seem content to sit on the couch and drink cups of tea - I tut and draw the curtains on all the centaurs and magic. Is this amazing world behind the wardrobe that few people ever discover wasted on me? Probably. Now get out of the way, I can't see the TV.

Barely holding together

Lisa's parents arrived on Friday, in remarkably good spirits given that their plane was delayed approximately 22 times. Like all our visitors, their trip so far has been a whirlwind sweeping through Kobe and the greater Kansai area. Hundreds of temple tickets flitter around in the twister, along with the occasional "all you can eat" dinner receipt. If you listen carefully, just for a moment, you may hear some words carried on the howling winds:

God, my feet are sore.