True to hypochondriac form, I'm constantly wondering if I'm coming down with malaria. Yes, I have 'malaise', and headaches, and general nausea, but it's not really any different than what I usually feel when I'm stressed and lacking a sense of purpose (since I have nothing to do at work and don't want to confront the domestic tasks awaiting me at home). However, since I have the fading marks of scores of mosquito bites on my legs, it's much more thrilling to imagine that I'm coming down with a dread tropical disease than it is to admit that I'm probably just vaguely depressed and unsettled by the transition between two vastly different worlds.
I really intended to get a lot done today, but I failed. On the bright side, I didn't take any naps this afternoon, which is impressive since I awoke involuntarily at six a.m. If I'm lucky, I'll start getting over the jetlag--I've been home a week, so it should theoretically improve in the near future. In order to help the process, though, I should really go to bed!
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