I'm sick.
Tuesday night I went home feeling terribly, terribly dizzy. My body was about three second behind where my mind thought it should be. Velvet and Lumiere came over, and before they left Velvet tucked me in and read me "The Very Hungry Caterpillar".
Wednesday I woke up and my lungs felt wrong. Heavy. Sitting lower in my chest than they ought. It's not that breathing was any more work than usual, it was just that it felt weird. I took some of my lovely Robitussin Severe Congestion drugs. (The stuff is wonderful.) Two hours later, I was coughing, tasting mucus every time did so. attempting to keep my mouth covered in meetings.
And today, the same thing. Coughing, icky stuff, drugs, vitamins. I called Loba last night to talk a little bit. She gave me a craving for Taco Bell which I haven't shaken yet. I'm not sure if I'm feverish, but I really *ought* to be home. But I've got work to do.
Maybe I'll finish what I'm doing and go home. Maybe I'll claim I'm contagious. I wonder if we get President's Day off? My mind is jittering and jumping. I hope nobody uses my keyboard, because it's probably all germy.
I'm not dizzy any more but I feel like I ought to be. Though I'm feeling better, now. Sleep would help. Sleep always helps.
*whine*
But there's this stuff to put together. Doing the best I can. Pausing to type here when I cant's stand it any more. A good cure for the boreds.
I spent the last week doing this? wow, it doesn't seem like much. Guess I spent a lot of time understanding how this site is put together. Documentation begins next week.
Too long away. All I want now is about fourteen hours of sleep. And to return my videos and go to Taco Bell and get more cold medicine.
My list for the drug store:
- cold stuff. Maybe some Nyquil. I dunno.
- *mumble* girl stuff.
- blades for razor (Mach 3!)
At least I got the stupid vitamins already.
And there are all those dishes in the sink, just begging to be done...
Ech.
Four years.I roll the concept around on my tongue, teasing it with the tip.
Four years.
I graduated from the UofI in 1996. It's now 2000. I am coming up hard on the fourth anniversary of a whole bunch of stuff. Four years in Seattle. Four years living with certain choices I made when I left Iowa City.
Four years of officially being an adult, for whatever it's worth.
It's a long time. It sounds much longer than three years, more official. A time of changes, of nestling down and figuring out where I want to be. Getting comfortable. Calling someplace home.
I wouldn't make some of my choices again if I knew what I know now. But those decisions—the mistaken, the silly, the plain self-destructive—have brought me here, to a place that I rather like.
Not perfection. Never perfection. I wouldn't be able to stand perfection. But comfort? Yes. Love? Yes.
All of these great gifts I have been given, that I had so little comprehension of four years ago.
All this light.
