I don't know when the last month passed. I had been waiting to go home, I went home, came back and now somehow I am back in London with only one month left before Japan. I have too many things to do and it seems impossible to make it. As usually, I probably will. But why do I always need to do impossible? It's like doing things was addictive and I couldn't stop picking more and more things to do. And than I am screwed. So screwed. No time to sleep. No time to eat. No time to have sex. And the long list of thing to be done seems only to get longer and longer with time.
How stupid I was to think it should be the opposite way?
Back to work, back to work, girl!