I am actually sitting up today. No writing as of yet, but a few attempts. This is the first day of the last three that I have not considered looking up do-it-yourself trepanning on the internets. I am glad not to have had most of the icky flu symptoms, but spending all your waking hours with a railroad spike being hammered into your skull above the right eye and out the ear don't make me very productive.
Not that I have been awake much - (And as you could tell from the last spate of posts, except for a flurry of awareness when Faramir photos were to be had, I haven't been awake even when I was.)
Jim is over the flu, but still feeling like sitting around and indulging himself since I haven't felt up to it, so it's been sort of fun if we had just felt good enough to enjoy it.
Chris called on Friday to see how I was, and I announced proudly that I had eaten a chicken finger, which made her laugh. That was good, because she was stalled on the road when she called, and thought her transmission had died. I tried to keep her company in that amusing way I have when nyquil has possession of my brain and stream-of-consciousness seems like a great idea while she waited for the AAA man, and all the lovely people on the road honked and cursed at her for being broken down in their lane. (Story with a good ending - a good samaritan with a truck pushed her into the supermarket lot, and her car had a broken axle leading to the transmission, not the transmission itself, lopping a handy zero off the estimated guess at repairs.)
Last night we had pizza! oh, so not on my plan, though I had it with a soy shake and wandered in delirious fantasies of a fifties low carb malt shop. And we watched a bunch of Ranma.
We are loving Ranma, laughing ourselves sick, but it doesn't need the entire brain - usually I can even manage a little writing while we watch, even if it's only notes, but sometimes a drabble if I have a clear idea. last night I was completely at sea, and I had to keep asking Jim questions and rewinding to catch up.
me: Jim, why is Pappa Soutoumi dressed like Barbie?
jim: (rewinding) He's wearing fishnets and a bustier to punish the underwear thief for eating the octopus puffs. Hey, at least he didn't turn into a panda first.
me: If this is a story so tragic it has never been told, why are they telling it?
jim: It's a mystery.
me: Did the seaweed child break into the bedroom to leave crumbs on his jacketses?
jim: (rewinding) well... umm... basically, yes.
So, when you need that kind of help, you know that when you read back your writing notes you are going to want to put a bag over your head.
Today was meant to be more normal. I took a bath without Jim checking on me three times. (Though the door bell rang after Jim had slid in behind me to wash my hair (*spoiled rotten*) and Jim ran out in a towel in case it was someone with a key. It was in fact, someone who wanted to plead with up to make sure we vote for Kerry. Jim shooed him away, flaunting his towel and saying "Look! We're democrats" )
Then we decided to reassemble the bed - only to find that the frame is still soaked in places. After a week of engineering solutions (the pleasure/pain of living with an engineer is that the simple answer is usually not enough fun) he decided we should, indeed, have drained the mattress so the bed can dry evenly. Which we are now doing, after a flurry of looking for the equipment, which we haven't needed in easily years. In fact, when I teased the bed spout out, it was surrounded with a fine layer of lint, which made me completely hysterical at the thought of the bed's navel. Already looking forward to confusing some poor salesman when we buy the new bed by asking him about the omphalos hookup.
So, I will be camping in the living room for a few more days at least. You might think I would be anxious to get back in my own bed, but the truth is I have become very cozy, the air mattress is quite comfy, and it lacks only a blanket thrown over my grandmothers kitchen table to be the best hideout ever.
If I can add real writing to the agenda, I will be a happy kitten. with pizza. But don't count on anything real today. I may post some icons if I clean my drive.
camping out. You can see that Frosty has a head start on the nap allotment.
Frosty and I have a disagreement about who that pillow belongs to. It's a souvenir pillow for "Mother" from when Jim's Dad was about to go overseas in WWII.
Jim's mom was going to throw it away when dad died! But retro-girl pounced on it.
Raven watches over me sleeping when he isn't busy stealing the sun
Uggh! It still smells a little damp, too. (See the sparrows hanging on the knobs on my side of the bed?)
Across from the bed - the barristers cases Jim and I built when we moved here (polished with real cat fur - Cinnabar napped on them while I wasn't looking, and I had to shave his belly) **This** is where my Tolkien books live.
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