Well my plans for normal have gone a bit awry. Bob and my stomach have ganged up to bitch slap me back into submission. And once more my world consists of pjs, pillows and white tiled ensuites. Crazy plans of normal have been replaced by harried trips to pharmacies, bulk purchases of air freshener, and, an apparently infinite, bowel of despair.
Times like these, only Plastic Bertrand can truly explain how I feel. (le sigh)