Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Yep, still sick.
But conscious. And relatively lucid. Yesterday was spent in a half-awake world of odd dreams and sweat and Judge Judy. I had kind of thought after I got home that I might be able to work on my stuff from work--got here, downloaded it, saved it, and left the computer on. It stayed on, and nothing else was done to it.
The doctor's office was kind enough to call me in a prescription for Zithromax and some decongestant, so last night the epoxy that had started to solidify in my lungs loosened up a bit, and the fever finally left, and the throat redness diminished some. Of course, there were still some of the leftover mental stuff--sometime last night I dreamed that we were back at our house in Irondale, and we were outside when a gigantic storm started blowing up. I ran and grabbed the back of the house, and in a great furious loud frightening blast, a freight train went straight through the back yard. I think it was supposed to be my brain's attempt at humoring me--the old thing about tornados sounding like a freight train, you know, and I had a freight train that sounded like a storm. Very odd. (I have a feeling that I heard the train down at the foot of the hill sometime during the night and it was a convenient excuse for such silliness.)
Today's been a bit better, although I am still here. I was actually able to get my work done, so that's a bit of a load off. Although, sadly, I have some company. Along about noon, I got a call from the nurse at the primary school. Some little tiny girl had a temperature of 102. ::sigh:: Off to school, bedheaded and with a two-day stubble, back home with a very subdued little cherub. I gave her some medicine and she crawled up onto our bed, scooted over to Mom's side, covered up, and promptly dropped off to dreamland. Hope hers didn't have any trains.
During which time, yet another ironic twist visited itself upon me--I was sitting here typing my work stuff, when it became apparent that Old Scratch had decided to move from sitting on my chest and tormenting my respiratory system, and had snuck down into my lower gut. Yep. Even though I've had exactly one can of soup the last two days, over the last couple of hours I have managed to keep the bathroom occupied rather steadily. Oh well.
Before I go back to tending to my gut and my baby girl, I did want to tell you all how much I appreciate the well-wishes for me. It certainly does make having the crud much more bearable. Although I must confess, I'd just as soon not have the crud. Oh, and thanks, too, for those who liked my story about Miss Reba. I just hope that she likes it whenever she finds out about it!
Anyway, I think I'll probably still be here tomorrow, so expect more of the same. Or not.
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