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Sick Day

Monday was a day off. I'd worked 50 hours in a 4-day week this past week. There's been a cold being passed around work. Rev. Not-So-Nice Super's had it the most recently, and sounds froggy and has been constantly spitting out nose-crud.

Monday, I did not step outside the apartment.

Symptoms: exhaustion, dehydration, sore throat, general stiffness and exhaustion, a runny nose and tickly throat, and a general disinclination to face the world.

I curled up in front of the computer most of the day, and in bed with some good classic science fiction the rest of the day. No talking. No work. No real stress.

I'm feeling a lot better now. Yay!


I'm feeling a lot healthier than usual, actually. The combination of Arizona and the discovery of allergy medicine means that I can actually breathe for most of the year, and I only rarely get the deep, lung-rattling cough that alarms so many people, yet used to be standard enough to not cause me any worry. I remember an 11th grade list of what I'd wish for if I had three wishes included perfect health. That isn't a standard teenage three-wish request. I'd still wish for perfect health now, but that's more because it's practical and because it's a good solid wish not likely to backfire that I'd immensely appreciate throughout the rest of my life.


Remind me, again, that there's more to life than work? Because work has been eating my life lately.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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