I was on the phone with Darkside when I caught the last half of the end episode of the X-Files when it first aired. Our reception was truly bad. I teasingly called him Mulder the next day at school; he called me Scully.
Applesauce is good. And I had a slice of bread and a piece of summer sausage (the one I used to flag down the 27 North bus with).
The fever broke or something. I'm not feeling all achy anymore, just with the coughing. I sound like I'm about to die, according to innocent bystanders. I don't feel like I'm about to die, mostly because I can breathe without my lungs crackling.
Today (well, Monday) I did dishes, moderated what could have been a flamewar and resolved the critical miscommunication on both sides (fairly well), rebooted the computer, retrieved the Little Fayoumis from school, vacuumed (with his help), fed him, read with him, went to bed. This morning so far, I have rebooted the computer, fed the mini-panthers so they'd stop whining, and engaged in a rousing discussion of biological vs. chemical terrorism, climate, and sleep-dep.
The past two nights or so, I haven't had my cat in my room with me. That made for a sad Lunatic. Lunatics are supposed to have their grey purrballs in the room with them. Lunatics are supposed to be sat upon by someone who wants to be petted.
My cat is turning into my best friend.
Lunatic still coughing up unmentionables and getting easily tired by sitting or standing too long. Still not particularly hungry. Still avoiding milk like crazy. I will have to eat something before I go get the Little Fayoumis, though, because I don't fancy a twenty-minute stroll on no food. That would be a Bad Thing. Applesauce will be my friend.
Picking up Little Fayoumis from school is part of the job description. Even when I'm sick.
I've been timing how much time I spend walking, to try and ensure that I get at least a half-hour of activity per day. Today's walk to/from LF's school was 27 minutes. My lungs are not thanking me.
Also, I should know better than to try salad on a mostly-empty digestive system.
The last book in the Aurian cycle, by Maggie Furey, isn't as bad as the other ones. Yay! This gives me hope instead of dread when those Words: "I have another book/series in progress" are said at the end of the novel.
Though I could wish that she'd gotten that level of polish on fanfic rather than published.
But that, for she who has yet to finish a complete novel, is just catty.
Since I'm stuck at home, and feeling very, very nonproductive, I might as well do something useful.
Both catboxes: scooped.
Trash: taken out.
The Evil Place Under My Desk: mostly cleaned
the Little Fayoumis: fed, including vegetables in his ramen, sneaky me
It's started. The bad "it". This dickhead Eli in his class has been telling him that he's fat. Evidently he's also he's old-school. Or something.
Or maybe that he's phat. I'm not sure. And I don't think he's sure either.
Am trying to reinforce the standard that "If your friends are mean to you, they're not actually your friends."
My throat is giving out. I just read two books to the Little Fayoumis. He read his reading book, and I read the two other books.
Now that he's settled more, it's nice to be able to read to him. Hopefully, I'll get to read every single book that he brings home aloud to him.
Maybe tomorrow afternoon, I'll get to read more So You Want to be a Wizard? to him.