Week Minus 10 — Stalling

I will have ten more to go when I take injection 38 tonight. But I'm stalling. I'm finding my attitude is not so chin-up, what-ho, pip-pip. I've been hanging out in a UK-based forum. The Brits don't really talk like that — well maybe they do, but they don't write like that.

My parents have had an ancient (I mean WWI vintage) record player for as long as I can remember. They dragged that thing all around the country, in fact. Anyway, one of the records is a marching song from the Great War that seems to be coming to mind more often these days:

Oh, they put me in the Army
   and they handed me a pack,
They took away my nice new clothes
   and dressed me up in khak',
They marched me twenty miles a day
   to fit me for the War,
I didn't mind the first nineteen
   but the last one made me sore!

Ch it's not the pack that you carry
   on your back
Nor the Springfield on your shoulder,
Nor the five-inch crust of khaki
   colored dust,
That makes you feel your limbs are
   growing older
And it's not the hike on the hard
   turn-pike
That wipes away your smile,
Nor the socks of sister's that raise
   the blooming blisters
It's the last long mile.

Thanks to http://www.immortalia.com for the lyrics. They have a WWII-era version that is almost word-for-word.

I mentioned it sometime back: this is the time to be careful — to be on guard for sloppiness. So I'm stalling from taking a shot. And I've taken my pills late. Yep, I'm getting sloppy. It's late. Self-discipline. To work. To work.

Ah, shaddup!