(no subject)

Today, not so charming. The good intentions of busy friends went awry (despite everyone's efforts) and turned my afternoon into a series of troubleshootings, on a day when I would have been better off in bed.

The morning was lost to pain and the afternoon to minor icks. Nothing big. Nothing major-crisis. I didn't get any work done and I haven't succeeded in sorting anything else out. I became all teary and did the most logical thing: I postponed as much as I could. Bad-health days are like that: the pain is infectious and communicates across phonelines, I think. What's a major issue on a day like today will be entirely easy to deal with when I'm less distraught.

This will pass. Give me a few days. Until then, sorry about any communicated misery.

(no subject)

I promised to let you know when that article came out. 'That article,' you may remember, was the one I wrote when I had a vast surge of death-wish, about a month ago. It should be online tomorrow, at Vulpes Libris.

ETA: Sorry, Richard III week is next week. Wait 8 more days and your lives will be ...largely unchanged. I keep finding flaws in my writing now it's been put into final form. This is the life of the Gillian.