So, February is turning into the kind of month that, in the immortal words of one cards_slash, smacks you in the ass and just smiles.

I won't go into detail about precisely what the deal here is because in spite of what appearances may suggest I am not actually trying to pity-whore here, but suffice to say it is not at all pleasant, it is aging me overnight, and it has forciably brought home to me the fact that I need a job yesterday.

So I've been spamming job applications to anyone who looks like they might be even remotely interested - the people at Office Angels must be utterly sick of the sight of my CV - and went back to that temp agency I signed up with about a fortnight before getting owned by Depression Gone Physical to let them know that yes, I do want work, here's my CV, please call me. So far they haven't, but I can but hope. How hard can it be to get a job as a receptionist? (No, don't answer that.) I may have bad hair and curves in all the wrong places but I can enunciate precisely and I'm not that difficult on the eye.

If job hunting was all I had to think about, it wouldn't be so bad, but of course I am Fate's Bitch and am trying to juggle this and about ten thousand tonnes of other administrative crapola related to the Very Unenviable Position I currently find myself in. To say I am utterly sick of being on welfare would be an understatement.

Of course, life being what it is, this coupled with difficulty sleeping coupled with the fact that (though I may be doing a lot better) I'm still not exactly Miss Mental Health 2008, has had that stupid herpes simplex virus I inherited off my mother in childhood flare up again. I've got my father's eyes and bone structure; all I got from my mother was herpes simplex. Which is a pity, because it means my mother is far prettier and feminine than me and always will be.

Yes, as if I didn't have enough to think about as it was, I've got a very nasty and ugly cold sore. And it hurts. And it, combined with make-up, makes me look like something from a nineteenth-century textbook about Fallen Women.

And then I'm still trying to work on weissday.

As usual, of course, what started out as a relatively simple kind of idea has necessitated the usual thousand tons of research - I won't say what on, as it would give the game away rather - and quite a lot in the way of Aya Fujimiya. God knows if, what with all the sundry crap I'm dealing with all of a sudden, I'll actually get it done on time. I suppose I can but give it my best.