I think a baby bird has crawled into my inner ear canal and in its confused death throes it occasionally beats its wings on the tiny trampoline near my brain. The bird-brain little birdy, or biting lickle insectivore hurts my head occasionally. It swims in mucoid mucus and strains to breathe over bubbling vents of ear juice. I can hear you; then I can't. Sorry what did you say. No, I'm sorry, you'll have to say it again. Nope, missed it again; my last recourse is to smile and laugh, and hope it's the best reaction for the job. If it's not, pull a face, or write me a note explaining your sadness or your sins.
Perhaps a slight early-winter cold has penetrated the battlements and battalions in my blood stream; white blood cells whip up an improvised defence against birds, bacteria, botulism and bigotry. The bird in my ear appears to have succumbed to the attack from my leucocytes. For three days in a row this sporadic weird attack occurred in my inner ear; now it's calmed down, and the very minor cold which struck me sideways seems to be abating.
Last week I was wall to wall exhausted, having run out of steam after writing all week, and working full time during the day for the first time in some time. Yes, I'm rambling but at least I can just about scrape the energy together, this week, to write a bit. Speaking of writing, I have massive doubts about being able to finish National Novel Writing Month i.e. writing 50,000 words by the end of Movember. I will however finish with a huge amount of work done; more than I would have done without NaNoWriMo, and a much stronger work ethic than I started with. I have also advanced hell of a lot in terms of plot and character. It's exciting stuff.
Speaking of Movember, it's the month when men everywhere grow a moustache to help raise money and awareness for "mens' problems"... ass cancer and the like. I'm not doing it this year, because I had never heard of it before. Apparently it was started about five or six years ago by some drunk Aussie doofuses (Mo is Aussie slang for a 'tache). I hope to give it a go next year. Just as long as someone reminds me. If I my main job is writer next Movember, I promise I will do it to the best of my facial hair growing abilities. If my main job is minimum wage shop assistant I may not be so inclined to get all facial-hairy. We'll see.
In summation: ear-thing, novel-thing, face-thing. The end.