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It's termtime and my Wednesday class was lovely as ever. This was a relief, for it turns out that the on-again-off-again sneezes and fevers and chills have been part of the virus I had a few weeks ago. S (admin person) and I compared notes and she had just compared notes with the friend who gave it to her. I have the lesser version of the virus and actually get more days when I can do stuff that either of them, but I still get bad days, of which today was one. I taught and then did all my messages and then went to bed. I'm out of bed only to cancel my evening out tonight. I had the same symptoms in Sydney, but not so nastily - this virus is much better in warmth than cold. And it takes forever to fade. The symptoms are those of a series of bad colds, with the added entanglements of no control of core body temperature and of intermittent fevers and (my bugbear) chest problems. Doctors won't do anything until secondary infection sets in.

It cramps my style but doesn't stop me from having style at all. And it meant that I told my students that it didn't matter how grumpy they were, they were going to write happy poems about winter. We filled half a wall with happy poems about winter and a linked serial tale.

Words of the day were virile, assurance and being.

My good news of the day is my reading. Six books by Margo Lanagan (all rather rare, lent to me by Margo herself) and three by Alan Garner (all fairly recent, from the library). They're for articles, but they're all volumes I wanted to read in any case. I shall read some of them tonight, in lieu of movies with friends and also tomorrow, since I want to get the loans back to their real home as soon as possible and one of the articles has a deadline. Being ill only sometimes stops me from enjoying life. Today it stops me from spending time with friends, but I shall still enjoy the evening.

And now, another photo:

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I think I just took a half day off. I don't know how it happened, but I am a better person for it. Not one of my deadlines has gone away, but tomorrow is approaching apace and no doubt I will fill it satisfactorily with the forms and articles and reading and bibliography I didn't finish today.

I'm trying to reconstruct my day, for it can't have slipped away entirely.

I taught all morning then spent a half hour in a meeting. I ran many messages. I was home a bit after 2 pm and then I sorted my computer. I read a bit and watched some Stoppard (for one of my messages took me via the library and a Stoppard DVD mysteriously came home with me). And that's it. Two and a half books and a half hour of a favourite play and maybe I could count the soup I cooked? Yes, I shall count the soup. It's a very nice soup, full of spices and spinach and tomato. I shall also count the online shopping and dealing with many emails. And I shall count eating dates and cherries and drinking tea and dreaming an inordinate amount.

If it takes me five minutes to re-create a few hours, then I must've needed the time off. I might do it again sometime. Not now, though, for now it is bedtime.