Time to Get Ill

August 22

11:58 p.m.

I'm sick. It sucks. Cold, with the usual cold-symptom things, with a sore throat being the most unpleasant part. I felt so bad on Thursday that I left work at 2:45 and slept the rest of the afternoon. I felt better today, like I was getting better, but now I feel pretty lousy again. I should go to bed. Tomorrow I go to help Susan & Matt move into their new apartment, so I need rest.

Heather's gone, gone, gone. (Along with Jed, Jenn, Greg, Mary Anne, and Jay -- but it's not like I see them every day. Oh, and Mike Jasper's gone too, though not to the same place. Ain't gonna be a lot of journals updated this weekend. So I'm here, keeping the flame alive!)

We went to the airport at 6 this morning. Not fun. I made Heather drive because I felt so shitty. We said our goodbyes. Sad. I'm going to miss her. I know it's only for a few days. I'll miss her every bit of every one of those days, too. I hope she has a good workshop experience. I'm envious! It's a good bunch.

When I got home from dropping her off, I couldn't go back to sleep, so I dawdled around and read short stories from the Hartwell Year's Best. I went to work, felt sick but not badly enough to leave, dragged myself home. I ordered Chinese food, mostly because I wanted some good soup, but the soup wasn't especially good. They have great entrees, but I've been disappointed in the two soups I've tried so far. Ah, well. You can't have everything. For some reason. Or so I'm told.

I actually had a productive night. I did some serious revisions to a kind-of-flabby story, and cut it down by about a thousand words, improving it greatly. I sent off two stories via e-mail, and got another three ready to go out in tomorrow's snail mail, bringing my total number of stories in circulation to, ahem, seven. I'm pretty bad about keeping stuff in circulation, but I hadn't realized I'd let it go quite so badly. This weekend I hope to finish revisions on another story (the one I did at Rio Hondo, which I haven't touched since) and get it into the mail as well. Should be doable.

I put up a couple of bookshelves and unpacked another box of books, did some cleaning around the house, etc. Answered e-mail. Played with the kittens. I was good. Kept myself occupied.

Tomorrow morning I'll do some more writing, then go help move boxes, then probably go to a café and work on some poetry and on the robot collab. I'll wander home at some point and... sit at the computer and work! This weekend will be much like my life when I lived in Santa Cruz, and was dating a woman who lived 3,000 miles away, and had friends who worked exceedingly odd hours. Which is to say, not very interesting, but with lots of time for writing.

Words written since February 1, 2003: 83,400

Words written since last entry:
0

Help us build a better Flytrap.