electricity

Ever since I got back from the UK I've felt vaguely out of sorts, and this feeling is slowly turning into a keen sense of malaise. Today after my film class we got coffee with the professor. As he was talking to us, my mind drifted and I thought, someone ought to walk up to me and punch me in the face.

A moment ago, I tried to plug in an American power strip. It made a loud noise and now the outlet by my desk doesn’t work. Florence isn’t here right now because ‘je ne peux plus le supporter. Je vais devenir folle.’ I think she’s slowly, or not so slowly, going crazy. Somehow, the idea of telling her about the outlet when she comes back seems like a big mistake.