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December 22, 2002
I seem determined to kill myself recently. The other day I put 240 volts through myself, by being unusually careless, and this afternoon I fell off a chair while erecting my birthday hammock, which is a damn stupid thing to do. Bloody hurt too, splat right onto my back. My wife reckons (jokingly, I hope) that it's Freudian, that I'm subconsciously having these accidents as a reaction to turning 40. Now, while I fully admit that dying is the only known cure to ageing, I think even my subconscious realises that it is a little extremist. I'll just be careful.