Dear Diary

Dear Diary—

Today, I've been feeling nostalgic. Still do. I caught a cold several days ago. A mild fever, a clogged nose, a deepish funny nasal voice, and overall fatigue pulsating through my mortal body. It started last Thursday and has lasted since, in its rhythmic sinusoidal waves of

oh, I'm feeling much better

and

ah, I'm still feeling like crap.

For this reason, today, I decided to stay home to speed-heal myself with abundant (and probably also redundant) sleep and excessive tea-with-honey replenishments. Sort of folk medicine. O, need to administer some garlic inhalations as well. Pills are expensive, usually bitter, and have many contraindications and side effects. I know. I have a degree in pharmaceutical chemistry. Syrops are much better. They taste good. Now, for some reason, I recall childhood and my parents admonishing me to take fish oil pills, the smell of hare fat (our relatives accidentally hit a hare with their car, and we received a jar of fat as a gift; if it makes any sense. It was said to possess certain healing properties), the color of potassium permanganate solution in a basin and me cleansing my feet (now, what was that for??).

I decided to dedicate my day to writing. I need to start writing my thesis. The deadline is still not very soon, but it's сrawling closer. Crawling closer. Am I allowed to say so? I googled it and found a bad acoustic Linkin Park cover. Very bad. I switched to Jo Blankenburg music. Much better. So today, I created a new Word document and named it "Masters thesis". One cannot use an apostrophe in documents' titles in Windows. Does macOS have the same issue? Also, I created a new library in EndNote to manage my future references. Good work. Enough for today. I don't enjoy staying home alone on a working day much. I need to marry, maybe. When I have a sore throat, I can easily mimic Elvis Presley and hit all the low notes he takes (well, had been taking before he died). Normally though, my vocal cords are shit.

And I-i-i-i ca-a-an't he-elp falling in laugh-gh-gh wi-i-ith yo-o-o-u.

Something like this. Good old songs.

I also noticed (rediscovered) today that it gets dark so early. Now I'll need a head flashlight for my evening running/jogging sessions. Or I can stop running until spring. Works for me. 7:30 PM, and it already gets dusky. One more hour, and it's dark. Hello darkness, my old friend. I recall Saturday evenings, the coolness in the air, our sauna at home, and the steam emanating from hot and sweaty bodies. Late dinner. And books read under the light of a table lamp. And then just in a few months, Christmas and New Year. I need to focus on my thesis and the experiments I still have to do and redo. Distractions are not helping. But I like these sudden and somewhat sad nostalgic vibes. Currently, the Manchester Orchestra is playing. Another cup of tea. I don't like much the voice of the singer. He's hitting the notes just fine but sings somewhat nasally. Did he also catch a cold? The honey jar is now empty. Tomorrow—into a new day.

Dear diary, I gonna burn you. For no specific reason, just to see the color of your flames. Or I would burn you if I had you. I don't. I have a notebook reading on its cover: "What if I'm underthinking." It's been resting on my shelf, empty for almost a year. On Sunday, I finally filled a few pages with troubleshooting notes regarding the experiment I keep repeating to achieve reproducible and statistically significant results and took it to work on Monday. I was profoundly procrastinating today. Tomorrow, I have things to do.