OTOH, I got preemptive sick leave for thu&fri so I'm only going back to work on monday

hopefully this crud goes away soon because fuck this

fic: "The New Zealand accent..."
me: aw
"...always sounded exotic"
me: i will fucken fight you

Home sweet fucking home, gonna turn the heaters on, the holiday automation off, setup the computers, charge my devices, go to the post office, thank past me for doing an okay job such that I don't have to clean now, and do some cleaning anyway.

About to sleep. It's a bit early but I'm weary af. Good night twitter

Actually calculated at 40 odd hours since I left a bed last. I'm at my rents and will sleep there tonight and go home tomorrow well rested and all. Fucken phew.

Going on 30 hours of being either sitting or standing up with no sleep for longer than 3 hours at a time and my body is not liking it. Light but persistent ache everywhere, I really need to lie down but about four hours away from that.

Now I stand in the salty nz air waiting for my pickup. Almost smells like home, and certainly better than the polluted air on the old continent

Got through all clear. Had to open the bag because they didn't believe me (rightfully, I mean, it makes sense) when I said the glass jars showing up on the xray were not jam (they're caramel spread).

Got it! Smelled a bit of cheese, so I opened it up to see if anything opened, was all fine, and now I go and see if DoC let's it all through

So a lot of the decisions I made in the last few years start to look pretty fucked up / suspect. Maybe they're good ideas! Maybe they're not! I don't think I can tell by myself

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