Another poo night. I woke up three times. Lay down on the floor for a bit. Also lay in bed staring at the ceiling for some time. I dreamed I was late for a flight - Amy Winhouse was the lady at the check-in desk when I eventually got there, and gave me marvelous service. Heh.

Other than that, I'm still very beige. Very blah. I wrote a letter stating all my "secret feelings" last night, read it, and realised how ridiculously hysterical I sound. Meh.


Tonight we're going out to say goodbye to one of our colleagues. It's me, the woo-woo "God sends me visions" post-doc chick, our newly arrived friend, Misha, and Rosita, who's the one going back to South Africa. They've decided to go to an "Only £7 Eat As Much As You Like!!!!!!" buffet. In the Metro Centre. I feel like I'll have to wear a velour tracksuit and huge hoop earrings to fit in...

OK, work. It might not be fun, and might not totally distract me, but it has to be done.

I've been having really screwed up dreams. I dream about my boyfriend, but I can't see his face. I also dreamed about my mother, somehow, last night - I can't remember what, but I know I did. Huh, I'm probably the only 29 year-old who has woken herself up on more than one occassion by crying for her mommy (out loud) during a dream. 

Anyway. Tuesday. It is a beige day. I suppose I'm ok - just had a demo for a MALDI-TOF mass spec machine. Nope, too complicated to explain. But it uses a *****laser**** which is sooooo cool. Next year, I'm coming back to the UK, and I'm playing with the laser machine, no two ways about it. Lazerzzzzzzzz!!!