This morning nearly reminded me that everyone else's deadlines are more important than my health. Fortunately, behind every deadline is a human being and human beings are pretty good at understanding, when given explanations and offered partial solutions. I got about half of this morning in bed, and still feel as if I'm not able to scale mountains today. I do, however, have three fewer mountains in sight (at least for the next two days) thanks to the nice people at the other end of the telephone.
I will be in and out of my place from now until Friday morning. I have teaching and meetings and dental appointments. On Friday, if I'm not over this idiot illness, I shall try the day-in-bed thing (since the most I've got is a half of half a day). That *will* work, because I can't really handle the thought of more time feeling so very grotty. It doesn't stop me working, but it certainly slows me down. And it means my blog is all about my chest hurting and not about any of the fascinating things that happen in my life.
Would you rather a blog post about medieval masculinities or the relative density of shiny objects in steampunk compared with paranormal romance or why pageant is such an important part of writing history into fiction?
Speaking of pageant, I might get some more of those postcards - the ones with a recipe from the Conflux cookbook. Does anyone who does not yet have one, have a burning need for one? If enough people have postcard envy, I shall order some more.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
