Dublin is wet. I have a cold. This second thing is a more-or-less inevitable consequence of travel.

I have done scenic Dublin as much as I care to, located all the statues except for the floozie in the jacuzzi, who has apparently been dug up to make way for a spire.

I am out of the hostel, spending the weekend on the couch of P- and housemates. They smoke, drink, Smoke, and play Gran Tourismo on the PS2. I suck badly at that game, having never played it before.

Still life is good.