Yeesh. I’m once again feeling under the weather; this has gotten to the point of being ridiculous. If you look back over the last month of entries, I complain about being ill more times than not. The sad thing is that pretty much every reference to an illness is a reference to a different illness.

It’s gotta be my sleep cycle (or lack thereof). I might be able to argue that I have a puny immune system—and a low tolerance for not feeling well—but this is stupid-crazy.

At work I’m beginning to settle into a pattern of scanning to stay caught up, and then helping Marin try to catch up on her work. This pattern will change next week, when I begin intensive training for the next actuarial exams. “Training” calls for me to work from 8-12, and then study from 1-5. That probably means that I’ll have to start getting to bed at a regular time, or else face certain death.

Too bad for me that every time I have to choose between sleep and certain death, I always seem to choose certain death. I’ve historically been dumb that way. It’s also a shame that I seem to be facing certain death as I type this.

If I do survive to see the weekend, though, there should be some excitement: Red Bull Flügtag is coming to Portland, and Andy & crew (where “crew” includes me) are going to be there. Andy described the event to me as “people chugging Red Bull and then throwing various (pseudo-)flying contraptions into the Willamette River.” It sounds like a hoot.