And my bipolarity is kicking in. I'm a tad saintly suicidal; the kind I figured Joan of Arch must have gone through. Sleeping is impossible because of my irritating and painful wheezing. Walking around is impossible because my head is like an old dam, ready to burst anytime soon. Watching television is impossible, my eyes are squinting like a mad eccentric's. Eating is impossible, my trakea is so clogged, a small piece of M&M will decide to stay for supper. But I found no problem gobbling down Ice Cream. Aaaaah. Ice Cream = Happy Food. And finely sliced cream cheese.
Cream cheese is Holland's most-prized botox treatment. A few fine slice a day will make our cheeks puffy and red.
My trip to Bali is confirmed. Can't wait to experience one of the most exquisite and exotic arts and architecture there. And the Nude Beaches. I'm not planning to strip down to my birthday suit though. Can I do that? Taking a stroll in one of those beaches and not be naked?