The Battle

This morning I thought I was maybe being a baby for taking the day off. I felt much better than I had yesterday afternoon.

My bones and skin, for instance, had stopped feeling like someone had pumped them full of water and made them very taut and excruciatingly tender. My colour was its normal pink, not the deathly white it had been when Shelley blessedly came over to make me dinner.

At 2 pm, I lay down for a bit of a read and a nap. Lying down made me realize that I felt awful again, that tingle taut feeling was back on my skin, the top of my head was pulsing from my sinuses being so clogged.

Unfortunately, I've lost the knack of napping. Because when you feel shitty, but can't sleep, there's not a fuck of a lot to do.

I emailed a whole bunch of people.

I watched the wind suck and blow the curtains into and out of the window.

I read some interviews with Nairne Holtz online, in prep for my own interview with her tonight.

And my christ, did I wish I could get out of that. Not because I think it will be boring - I really enjoyed her new book, and I think her Canadian Lesbian Literature bibliography is wicked, and I would like to talk to her about both.

I'm feeling bad enough, though, that I've put the calls out to try and reschedule. The overachiever in my brain is saying, suck it up, butcher, just barrel through; the reasonable part of my brain is saying, the bathtub upstairs feels too far away to get into, you. are. sick.. My body is voting for being very very still.

We'll see who wins.