Slept at 8 in the morning, woke up at 10, had to assist when the electrician came.
It's almost 3 p.m and I'm still in my jammies, gargling Eid's leftover cookies and a yogurt drink.
I am on the verge of feeling into becoming an emotional wreck. My writing is uninspired, and I have nothing to blame on.
What could rotate this distinct period; I wonder.
Been talking about Tioman, Tioman, Tioman for a while now. So far, the plan had fade out quarrelsomely.
Crap. This is too much to even brainstorm. Surely this post has a better place to stay than in the Save/Draft box.
Tweet me, lately my mind had been restricted to a 140 characters. Ciao!
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