How long is a piece of string?

I guess I'm somewhat high-strung. I try really hard to get people to think that I don't care about things and stuff, but I'm not doing a very good job at it. Some things don't bother me much; the incident with the fire on my living room floor for example. But generally it doesn't take much to make me a complete nervous wreck. I often get this feeling of extreme discomfort without actually really knowing why. Like yesterday. My entire evening was spent worrying about... well, I don't actually know what I was worrying about. I tried to analyse the situation to find out what was bothering me and then do something about it, but I couldn't think of a good reason to feel like that. If I lived a hundred years ago I would've been one of those crazy aunts who's irrational behaviour would be explained with the simple words; "it's the nerves".

I finally got round to reading the da Vinci-code the other day. I didn't like it much. It's not particularly well written and if you've heard about the sangreal-theory before it's just not worth it having to wait for the big moment when Langdon ("Harrison Ford in tweed"?!? Bite me!) reveals to Sophie that graal isn't actually the san greal but the sang real. Jeez. And the writing under the rose on the box? It would've taken a child two seconds to realise that if you hold it up in front of a mirror it's perfectly legible. Any old how, I decided to read "Bloodline of the Christ", which I conveniently had in my bookshelf. Just to compare. Because obviously I haven't got anything else to do at the moment, now have I? Aaaargh...