When I'm even the least bit sick I feel as though my brain is full of pillows and I would rather look up extradition in the dictionary, watch horribly disturbing BBC comedy clips with creepy foxes that people with mustaches have told me about, stare at shoes on line, stare at my shoes and try on all my high heels and dream about places to wear them, read recipes and imagine piles of blueberries or cheese or sauteed onions, change sweaters every half hour til I find the one that is most warm, comfortable, and completes the outfit the best, and read novels and novellas instead of read a five page French essay and then write a summary of it.
It's horrible to contemplate another language when your brain is pillowed.
And extrados is the outside curved surface of an arch according to my wonky dictionary. If you saw my dictionary you would understand why it's wonky.
Oh mince.
(I mean the french mince)
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