Sunday, November 21, 2004
This morning, after spending all day and night yesterday moving thriteen bookshelves and all day on Friday moving umpteen million boxes of books, my body finally decided that enough was enough and, as I was starting to unpack the aforementioned books, it simply began to shut down on me. It was an annoying and disconcerting sensation and one with which I couldn't argue. I think my metabolism mutineed and hit the big red button marked "Stop now, you idiot!" And so I spent most of the afternoon napping on the new bedroom floor, slightly delirious (that dreaming but awake thing I often get when extremely exhuasted), drinking Gatorade (because, of course, I was also dehydrated), and wishing I had the energy to get up off my ass and do one of the hundred things that needed doing.
I'm told I can have Thai food for supper, which will hopefully help speed my restoration.
Silly body. Stupid flesh and blood. If I had the shiny new android body I keep not getting for Xmas, I could have just popped in a new fuel cell and kept right on going.
Anyway, I'm mostly making this entry to thank Mistress Mousey for at long last reuniting me with Jeanne-Pierre, the Existentialist snail. As we speak, he's sitting here on my desk pondering Kant. As soon as the move is over (the actual movers don't come until Saturday) and I am once again in full command of this traitorous meatsack, I shall post a few photos of the two of us together (as per his request). Thank you, Squeaks.
Okay, I'm going to lie down again...
4:09 PM
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