I have a confession. I listen to the sound track from Mama Mia everyday. I played a little Mozart this morning and then....Pierce Brosnan singing is cringe-inducing but I don't care. I know all the songs by heart now (not hard because they are so obvious-alone-flown, around-down, etc). Patti Smith they ain't. I think it is my version of valium. I need to listen to Meryl Streep singing Super Trouper.
My squirrely cat is behaving bizarrely, even for her. Maybe S.O.S. is getting to her. That song makes me jump up and down in the kitchen, making the dishes rattle. She is chasing a dish towel around like it is alive. She is flipping and skidding and pouncing. Usually she reserves this sort of behavior for living (or recently dead) rodents and birds.
One more typhoid pill to go. I haven't keeled over. And now I am protected for five years. I wonder where I will go after India. My bedroom is now a staging area for clothes and other stuff like tablets to treat water, sunscreen and bug goop, synthetic clothes that 'crush'. I know from being a runner and hiker, fake fabric smells gross after a healthy sweat so I am expecting to be quite fragrant. But maybe India herself is quite fragrant so I'll just blend in.