Scriptora est omnis divisa in partes tres… Oh, wait, not that kind of report.
So — I hadn’t intended to get sick, and I went so far as not to get very bad flu, even while the guys got it. In fact, #1 son and I — who’d had the vaccine — were barely touched by the flu, while the other two mugs got very ill. Of course, any of the guys being ill makes it very hard to write, but I was sort of puttering along, and then the secondary infections reared their ugly head. You see, I hadn’t prepared for that. So, bronchitis and sinusitis, and my ears were starting to get involved. (My ears always get involved. If this were a space opera my ears would be the space ranger who can’t leave any situation alone — Sarah’s ears to the mess! — or for Heinlein fans, my ears are Lazarus Long — only they’re always trying to die off.)
But you know — I’ve talked about it before — how little aware I am of what is going on in my body. This is one of the reasons I get so ill, because the symptoms need to get strong enough to break through the book currently unrolling in my head. So, it took getting to the point my fever spiked to 103 and I was wandering around the house in a fog (did you know that a sufficiently high fever has the same effect as hallucinogenics? I never actually saw pink lizards, but I used that as short hand for my mental state, so that people didn’t tell me to drive somewhere or something like that — I probably could have driven somewhere. I just would have kept on driving in a straight line. That was sort of what I was doing here. If I was peeling carrots, I’d go through a whole pile before going “oh, yeah.” Not that I peeled carrots. In fact #1 son said “This family has been eating like we’re starring in a documentary.” I.e. the family that NEVER eats fast food has had a lot of it this week, because everyone’s schedule is packed and I’m sick, and Dan isn’t very well.)
It was still unkind of Charlie to compare me to an oyster. I could say “you can’t choose your family” but since he is in fact part of my chosen extended family I’ll just say “don’t let him put lemon on me.”
Yesterday (second day on godzillamicin) the congestion loosened. This was actually a good thing, since what was worrying me was that I wasn’t coughing at all, and when that happens it goes to my lungs and that’s bad news. Well, my cup runneth over. Okay, not my cup. And you don’t want details, but yesterday I woke up drowning.
And then I thought it would be a good idea to clean the kitchen, the boxes and the bathroom. (Look, would you trust the parts of the house that must be clean to the young males?) Yes, older son yelled at me. There was something, something about my thinking I’m made of titanium, but I’m only human. I have clue zero what he meant. Anyway, this was about a third of what I normally do on Fridays, took me longer than the whole thing usually does AND I was shaking with tiredness afterwards.
This morning I woke up clear headed, but I think I’d best not do any cleaning and scrubbing. (So hopefully Havey didn’t throw up all over the kitchen floor — why does that cat get sick when I do?)
I still don’t know what to do about these recurring issues — my lungs have always been fragile. Twenty years ago in the Carolinas I lived tethered to my inhaler, so I guess this is an improvement? I’m going to try to make with more C and lemon in my tea and stuff and to become more aware of signs of trouble before I’m really ill.
Meanwhile, if I was doing something with you two weeks ago — guest post, project started, promised to look at something — two weeks ago, it’s gone. So ping me again. A couple of extra guest posts next week wouldn’t hurt either. I might no use them, but I hear this idiotic thing has a long ramp back up. Feels like it to.
One of the projects I started two weeks ago was asking people to read over the first three musketeers and do a bible for me (I’d like to get three of those. Then I’ll have everything covered.) and also to typo hunt them and No Will But His and send me lists. All of this has been copyedited, some of it twice, but as I type set it, I keep finding strange and silly typos.
The musketeers were written when I was doing 6 books a year plus upteen proposals, plus homeschooling the genius (aka #2 son) so not only did things slip, but my very odd sense of humor intruded. Some of it I can’t remember why I thought was funny (probably pink lizards) but I’ve been changing it and not making notes, so the old bible for the series is useless.
I have the new versions and will upload them to a hidden page and give the volunteers (and those subscribing at that level) access to them.
And I think that’s it. I’m going to have caffeine. If going downstairs and making tea and eating a yogurt doesn’t leave me winded, today might be a good day to write.