Some current thoughts, for a change

Being sick and bedridden on the second floor of a house in a quiet suburb, only a block away from a relatively busy street, I hear some strange things, about half of which might not have been fever-induced hallucinations.

A baby crying downstairs.
A man very yelling "BAI BAI" as a car drives away
Sirens, like every 15 minutes. Great omen
Cats screwing or fighting nearby (sounds the same)
Someone (hopefully female) in high heels sprinting towards the intersection
My stomach growling, and then saying "you'd better not try to eat anything jackass"
My racing heartbeat as I sweat out the invading antibodies.

Also, I have come to two conclusions: one, that I have developed a telepathic connection with my cell phone, and two: the gecko's grip is eternal. I'm not sure which one makes more sense.

I keep my cell phone on manner mode pretty much all the time, cause I'm just so well-mannered. Naturally, it will buzz twice when I get a new message. I'll be standing, walking, or biking along when I feel like my trousers are vibrating. Instinctively, I reach into my pants (for my phone, smartass) and upon removing the device, it'll proceed to ring... twice. Creepy. I'll be thinking about sending or receiving a message, and the phone will buzz at me like an impatient ER doctor's beeper. Just now, I came back to my room after spending an entire evening downstairs, and for some reason, I was thinking about checking my phone for messages. As I opened the door, I heard the second buzz indicating I had just received a message. Tin-foil hats, anyone?

The second thought was probably more feverish mania than a sane conclusion; I was washing my hands downstairs like a meth addict with the lights turned off before returning to my cocoon of sweat and tears upstairs, and reached for the hand towel. Said towel hangs on a small hook in the shape of a pink gecko with suction cups for feet, stoically affixed to the cabinet door. As I dried my hands, the towel fell, and I reasonably concluded that the gecko had fallen from the uneven wooden surface, as suction cups are prone to do. Despite not hearing any "plop" of falling geckos, I searching the dark countertop (cause the lights were off, you see) for a good 15 seconds, before looking up and realizing that the gecko was unmoved, and I had merely pulled the towel off his tail-hook. At that point, like a booming voice echoing inside my head: "Fool, don't ever doubt the gecko--his grip is eternal." Maybe I should take a day off from school after all...

Lastly, and this isn't really a thought, more a public service announcement for everyone: Japanese people have no shame about talking about things like constipation or diarrhea. I suppose this is a good thing, because both are common to the human condition, and it's good to be able to talk about the symptoms of what ails you, but I suppose there's something from years of good 'ol anglo-protestant shame beaten into my sub-conscious that flashes big red lights when I'm asked about the condition of my bowel movements. Even the TV commercials come out and say it, and although I'm getting used to it, it's still hard for me to say "yep, it's been a while since I visited 'ol Toto," or "no, I think I need to change my underwear again." Perhaps I've said too much...