I've been overtaken by several whims lately. I thought about getting a tattoo on my wrist, but then became concerned that if I ever needed emergency medical treatment, it might make it harder for the doctors to locate my veins. I also considered the possibility that if I died, Enya might be played at my funeral. This is not something I want to happen. People sometimes think I love Enya because I like songs sung in Irish, but I do NOT like Enya at all. I want the Dubliners to be played at my funeral (Fáinne Geal an Lae, the Parting Glass), or Rammstein (actually maybe not) or Rebecca Black (only if the funeral's on a Friday) or Elgar (Nimrod) or traditional Welsh music (Calon Lân). Just so that's clear. Play Enya at my funeral and I am doing some serious haunting.
I'll stop talking about death now. I WILL TALK ABOUT BATS INSTEAD. I thought some more about the bird box I mentioned last time and realised that it's rumoured that there are bats in the building next to me, which is excellent because they're planning to make the building into a pub, which they would not be able to do if it's inhabited by bats. Perhaps they could make it into a bat sanctuary instead. I would love that.

The Nexus 7 fund took a bit of a hit today after my electricity bill for the quarter came through. WOE. Perhaps I'll dig into my 'mortgage/emigration/whatever I decide to do with my life' fund for the Nexus. I'm already feeling pretentious just at the thought of getting a tablet and am deriving some amusement from saying 'Hmm, I have an app for that, hmmm' in a posh voice at random intervals.
Talking of amusement, I went to see Alpha Papa at the weekend in That Newcastle. IT WAS GREAT. I've rarely lol'd so much in a cinema. I was weeping with laughter. We also had lunch at delicious Sky Apple OMNOMNOM. It was so good. With that and the massive Chinese supermarket selling all kinds of things I'd never seen before, I'm almost tempted to move to Newcastle. I already wear a lot of black and white so imagine that I'd be accepted into Geordie society to some extent.
I've been doing some cbt, the therapy kind rather than the rude internet kind (unfortunate that they share an abbreviation). I'm not very good at it because I keep getting distracted by Memrise. I dismissed some of it, like all the 'physical techniques' for reducing anxiety. I've tried them many times before and have always ended up thinking 'Well, I'm breathing a lot more deeply, but I'm still very worried that everyone I've ever loved has died during the time I've been concentrating on my breathing'. But the rest of it is fairly helpful. I've got another telephone appointment on Thursday at lunchtime, and am not allowed to worry about it till tomorrow evening, I've decided. It feels a bit like homework. The next modules I'm doing deal with being a Clinically Unhappy Bunny, which feels like a different and no less large mountain to climb that the Anxious mountain. But, y'know, it's progress in a way. I'm inching towards relative sanity. Stop looking at me like that. It's true!