85 degrees or something crazy like that and I spent the day desultorily cleaning up the kitchen and taking a nap and reading Kim, which I dug out of my son's bookcase after last night's blog entry. It's amazingly racist yet I do not care, because it's still holding all the magic I remember from it and my childhood, when I wanted to be Kim more than anything else in the world. Except possibly Mowgli who was maybe even cooler than Kim, but even I, not noted for long term thinking, realized that Mowgli was going to have a rough adult life and difficulty adjusting to life beyond wolves. As a former feral child, upper middle class variety, I must attest to this.
Meanwhile, I'm still a little sick, which is a drag. This thing just doesn't want to quite let go. So I'm treating myself with vodka and grapefruit juice and praying to Jah and echinacea and so on, but it's a bit eepy. Which means, I guess, that it's okay that I haven't done much today.
And tomorrow is Monday. What unparalleled joy awaits.
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3 comments:
(Sending you spiritual chicken soup, Fliss)
Wow. What a week, fliss. Lots of fluids today, kay? Not the alcoholic kind. At least before work.
Damn, how did you know about that pint of vodka I drink in the car on the way to work? Heh. If only, or in a perfect universe or something. Yeah, I've been chugging the fluids and now I'm rocking the Sudafed again and I feel, well, like I had the flu last week. But like I'm probably going to live, which is such an improvement over a week ago that I could weep for joy. Thanks for the soup & kind thoughts y'all!
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