Thankfully, the fever has come down and it's not denggi after all. Probably a viral fever or something. The surprised look on the doctor's face confirmed it.
"Your fever's gone down completely!" she exclaimed.
The miracle of modern medicine and dumpling soup. Personally, I reckon it was all over-exertion, exhaustion, stress and lack of sleep. Saiful said I was going to burn myself out. He wasn't too far off.
So yesterday I snuggled up in bed in a cold sweat watching Old Boy (demented & twisted) whilst my ever-loving girlfriend brought cookies and mineral water. Even though we didn't speak much (as I was asleep most of the time) I absolutely loved her company. For some reason I sleep much better knowing she's next to me.
Now I'm back in the office, everyone's been going through hell during the ten or so hours I've been away and it looks like I'll be jumping in with them soon. The 'Sure' deo I bought is NOT working, godammit, and I'm wondering whether my armpits are genetically different from regular people. Perhaps Man Method was right. Meth Crystals. Or shaving my pits.
Should I shave my pits? Does that make it better or worse?
Tonight is the big one, the meeting with Jalaludin Hassan (whose name I may have been spelling wrong this whole time because I have no idea how many 'l's are in his first name) and we'll find out how much the man costs. Then it's packing up time, followed by a good night's sleep before boarding a 747 to Heathrow.
I'm working on a wallpaper now to piss off my colleagues whilst I have time. It'll feature me, Big Ben and a slogan somewhere along the lines of "I'm here. You're not. Have a nice day."
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