Just over two months since I pass by here, and it's time to tell my readers what a few of my life. The end of the summer I spent back in Alicante, celebrating the holidays a year in Los Patos: family, friends, alcohol ... it's every year, but every year with better face. It was one week (five days), brilliant, and I served as an injection of energy to face my month and a half after working as a telephone interviewer. September was mainly based on this: I woke up, I went to work, I did go through a certain Luis García, I tensed when I was sent to hell (to say something nice), returned home and went to sleep. Not that I spend all day working, no. I spent half working and half on the train, which is more tiring. Y Saturdays (and some Fridays) I still had the strength to go to the casino to put up with a bunch of gamblers. I prefer the match to have met there a couple of people who were worth, one of them (here is the coincidence) a journalist (graduated) near the thirty in which I saw reflected in a few years.
would have continued until today, were it not that the day 4 I started the Masters in Sports Journalism from the VIU. And I could not change the morning shift, I decided to quit. Total for shit jobs is not going to be: I had an interview yesterday with a bunch of crooks, and on Monday I have another, still do not know whether to scammers or people serious. So I left it, with such good luck that just for that week, the first of this month, the VIU asked me a series of documents that had to be requested at the UMH, and was not available. A week in Alicante to conduct all negotiations, a free weekend at the Casino, a strange bridge (what if you do not work you can call the bridge?) And this week I have spent looking for work. Also, I've been a few sessions of the Master: looks good, but I think I need some more pace.
Amid all this, I still have my recent health problems. One day he was working, I was so dizzy that I went to the doctor. The first thing I did was take me stress: definite diagnosis, was through the roof. The doctor told me: "Eat bland and try to lose weight." I thought it was a simple problem of cervical passenger, but when I go to check the progress, the tension was fucking high. Then I started taking me seriously. I've been without food for weeks and some salt, I'm back to start doing some exercise (slowly) and I'm starting to see results. On Monday I have to go back and see what I say.
Anyway, today I hope you do not make me "hypertensive" again: I've gone half of Madrid from south to north (and vice versa) with a Plecostomus in a fish bowl "Auxiliary" to give it away because they no longer fit in the tank of 30 liters of Veronica. Imagine the size of the fish. I bought it 3 or 4 months ago by five of what it was. I could have thrown down the toilet (with the risk of clogging in the chute), but I liked it so much that I preferred not to kill him, the death of over 80 km with him on top. In short, sentimental one: at least he survived the journey, while the soil is dripping water spilled and I read 'The crooked lines of God. " I'll miss ... and I'm not kidding. And over tonight have to listen to the bunch of gamblers. These other lines that are twisted ...
Amid all this, I still have my recent health problems. One day he was working, I was so dizzy that I went to the doctor. The first thing I did was take me stress: definite diagnosis, was through the roof. The doctor told me: "Eat bland and try to lose weight." I thought it was a simple problem of cervical passenger, but when I go to check the progress, the tension was fucking high. Then I started taking me seriously. I've been without food for weeks and some salt, I'm back to start doing some exercise (slowly) and I'm starting to see results. On Monday I have to go back and see what I say.
Anyway, today I hope you do not make me "hypertensive" again: I've gone half of Madrid from south to north (and vice versa) with a Plecostomus in a fish bowl "Auxiliary" to give it away because they no longer fit in the tank of 30 liters of Veronica. Imagine the size of the fish. I bought it 3 or 4 months ago by five of what it was. I could have thrown down the toilet (with the risk of clogging in the chute), but I liked it so much that I preferred not to kill him, the death of over 80 km with him on top. In short, sentimental one: at least he survived the journey, while the soil is dripping water spilled and I read 'The crooked lines of God. " I'll miss ... and I'm not kidding. And over tonight have to listen to the bunch of gamblers. These other lines that are twisted ...
0 comments:
Post a Comment