Tuesday, March 25, 2003
I spent most of the afternoon tripping along on a 100+ degree fever, giddy, delerious, and thankful for a respite from the aches and chills that had dominated the night and morning. I lay here, listening to Spooky reading to me, thinking of how marvelous fevers are, kind of like free drugs. By the way, as no one here has the good sense to stop the fevery, delerious lady from blogging, I can not be held accountable for anything in this entry.
I had a tiny bit of a weirdness last night. Me, and the fever, and Spooky was reading to me then, as well. "Dracula's Guest." I heard, quite distinctly, from the bed right next to my head, a short, plaintive meow. I assumed it was my cat Sophie, but when I rolled over to tell her to shut the hell up because I was too sick to hear it, there was no cat there at all. It might have been the fever. Or something outside. Or it might have been a phenomenon more akin to the ghost child Spooky encountered in the kitchen last week. I'll tell that story some other time.
My comp copies of the Embrace the Mutation chapbook arrived today (which includes my story "Andromeda Among the Stones"), as well as a copy of Poppy's new short story collection.
I've used up all my energy again. I shall go now, and lie useless as a pile of old rags and sip at my mango/tangerine juice.
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