*coughs*

Going on week three of this horrible thing that has gone beyond any definition of a normal flu.

Did New York City really knock the wind out of me that hard?

I basically slhep myself to the bathroom, kitchen to feed the monsters, and then back to bed.

There are 14 cracks in the ceiling, three of which are making me very nervous.
Crosswords have done their part in keeping my sanity in my possession.

But it's the exhaustion - sheer wipe out.

I'm afraid it's walking pneumonia - I will go to the clinic for a chest x-ray tomorrow.
I will demand a chest x-ray at the clinic tomorrow...


E got back from san francisco on friday afternoon.
Or has it been longer than that already?

I can't even begin to imagine how mom managed to get through a year of chemo and not want to give up.

"I'm sick of feeling sick" - now I know 1/10th of what she must have felt.

I really just have enough energy to write this post and go back to rest.

Frasier has been my saving grace as well - he's good therapy for a weary spirit and shabby body.

God. So many stories to write - so little energy to write them...