assorted sours, forgotten

One of my least favourite things about being sick is the way that it blunts my sense of taste. I can still taste things, but the tastes are neither as full nor as ripe (rich?) as they might be, and all things considered, Easter weekend is a bad time to lose that ability to taste, because there is just so much darn good food. Also, I just generally hate being sick.

It was a good weekend, all in all; having four days off (even four days of being sick as a very flu-y dog) is quite possibly the best thing ever. Now I just need to survive the next four days of descriptive paragraphs, research reports, and Romeo + Juliet madness. Strangely, I am starting to appreciate Baz Luhrmann's adaptation of the play--something that has been inconceivable to me to this point.

I'm a bit uncertain about the future right now (right now, of course, being a rough euphemism for "the last six months or so") and I wish that things would start falling into place a little more. I fully accept that they aren't going to, at least not in the way that I want them to...but is a little certainty too much to ask for?