Am siiiickly. ( tmi ) Wah, cold. Yay, cry me a river finally being properly rotated enough on music channels for me to see the video almost in full. Wah, having to finish book on medieval women and their religious food practices which darling darling library want back on monday. Watched FOTR the other day, think it's awful slow. Most of that Shire gubbins quite unnecessary to a /film/'s plot. Also, Mysteriously Morphing Accents! Especially those of Messers Astin, Wood, and sadly also Mortensen (why, God, why?) but then I suppose it's hard to keep up that charming cornwall-shropshire-somerset-devon-oxfordshire hybrid in times of high emotion. K, brother and I ended up substituting one main noun per sentence with 'pants', which I have a feeling is an idea stolen from a lotrips fic. Works well, have to say. Mildly dislike Tolkein, still. Mildly like portrayal of Aragorn son of Arathorn, still. Am very pro Mr Mortensen's poetry, also. Yay for renaissance-manhood.

Oooh, dizziness. How quaint. Shall stop not-quite-spamming now.

[edit]: my family have moved from frying bacon to cooking a goose, the smell of which wafts directly up to my bedroom and is Not Helping The Sickliness. Life == Unfair.