Really, Seriously, Flotsam

Day four of isolation, and my mind starts to lose the distinction between fiction and reality. Okay, some of that is due to having read The Subtle Knife until five in the morning, a book that deals with multiple worlds linked by thin slices that the characters can walk through. It's something to do with dark matter, but don't anybody tell me, because I'm only a little ways into it, and I don't want to hear the punchline prematurely.

Really, I think the hardest part of being sick, for me, has to be being stuck in my house all alone for days on end. I've called both mom and Boywich (the two people I always wish for when I don't feel well). I guess that tells you something about the people I'm okay with acting like a two-year-old around. Not necessarily nice for them.

My cat has been annoying, demanding attention in an ever louder and more insistent whine. Lovely. Shut up, dear.

I am drinking the good coffee. The one that looks like you-know-who. He even checked out the beans, rubbing a few between his fingers to assess their oiliness, because I ran into him the day I'd bought it. Haven't seen him in an age, which is causing that particular crush to fade a bit, that and the fact that it didn't look to be leading to anywhere in particular (other than frustration). Also, it seems that when I'm really feeling shitty, I don't care so much about boys. Something about being full of snot tending to make me feel less than spectacularly attractive.

Also, I was dumb and took a couple of self-portraits yesterday. "Whoa! I look old. Am I always that pale?"

See? Dumbass.

Apart from the brief burst of fevered activity on the essay (which I'll no doubt have to revise when I'm thinking clearly), I've done nothing I needed to get done around the house. Okay, I cleaned the bathroom a bit, but that took five minutes.

I need to make myself some little zippered pouches to go in my bike bag, one for tools and one for condoms (hey, you asked) (oh, you didn't? well, since this is my blog, we're going to pretend like you did, anyway. see? two years old. apart from the fact that two-year-olds don't have much need for condoms. of course, neither do I, of late. okay, exiting parentheses now). Haven't done that.

Haven't made those old jeans into a nifty jean skirt, either. Which wouldn't matter, except that the jeans are sprawled across the top of the sewing machine, discouraging me from making the zippered pouches, which I really do rather need.

What is it about this particular cold that makes me choke on coffee? Every morning for the last four. I never normally choke on coffee. It's gotten so that I get a cup of water ready at the same time, without even thinking about the reason why. Though of course I don't put the cup of water within easy reach, so I always have to get up....

Really, you're thinking, she'd better get well soon or we're all going to keel over from boredom. Yeah, me too.

Plus, the bikes are looking very, very lonely. I miss them. It's like they and the outdoors are one, and I miss it all. I miss being a human being, instead of an invalid. That last is pronounced the way they did in Gattaca, invalid.

I have been knitting up a (small) storm, though. Progress on the 2nd mitten of J-ness. Also, this. Is it not super-awesome? Just like the label said.