I don't know what the blessed bloody hell happened to me yesterday, but good gods, it was nasty. The good news that lots of liquid and sleep seems to have gotten the worst of it out of my system and I woke up this morning feeling much better.
But oog. No more chinese food I think for a while, or at least nothing that tastes like chicken with broccoli in brown garlic sauce. Gah.
Anyway, I'm taking the fact that I'm actually hungry this morning as a good sign, and plan to take it easy today. Cream of rice, I think, is in order, seeing as my guts are still kinda sore.
I've finished Hell and Earth
as well, and am amused at how that took me far less time to finish than Ink and Steel
. Much less slashy, and more with the political intrigue/sorcery, but I'm really okay with that. Onwards to The Scar, and then I'm done with and can return all the borrowed books.
Get your own valentinr
Being trapped in bed with the sicks also gives one time to think, in between the times when distracting oneself with books doesn't work. I've been revisiting the topic of this entry
a lot (yeah, it's locked, sorry - basically, me whining about my lack of self-esteem) and realizing just how badly this has undermined all of my relationships in the last six or so years, not to mention risen up to bite me in the ass for the last decade and a half. My first temptation is to winnow out where it all started, but I'm not giving into that sort of navel gazing behavior this time - you don't treat cancer by trying to pinpoint which cell started the rampant illegal multiplying, you go after what's already there with the nastiest chemicals/radiation the patient can stand. Cause goddamn it, I'm 30 years old, and I'm damn sick of letting my own lack of faith in myself fuck up my life (and by extension, other people's lives) anymore.
So mote it be. *decisive nod* and now to give into the growlings of my stomach and test whether I can eat something sorta solid.