Ugh!
Still getting over this bug.
Throat feels a little less hellish. I sound a little less like the creature from the Black Lagoon (if he smoked since childhood and habitually chased razor blades with shot glasses of battery acid)my apologies to anyone whos tried having a phone conversation with me this week.
On the good news I lost four pounds todayof mucus.
Im giving my body one more day before I jump to extreme measuresIve gotta finish unpacking, gotta start writing.
Today, I saw a very large deer wander through my backyard. Yesterday, a very large snapping turtle scuttled out of the woods and into the yard, craning its neck like ET. Thats why I like where I live (at least, for the few months that Im not at school or elsewhere) in the northwest burbs. I can watch prodigiously large mammals and reptiles in the yard. Twenty minutes away, and Im in commercially congested burbs (Sears Tower in distant view on a clear day). Forty minutes away, and Im in the city proper. Twenty-Five minutes another way, and Im at Six Flags. Fifteen minutes, yet another way, and Im at the only quacking bog in Illinois, with its floating islands of sphagnum moss, dark-acidic water, and carnivorous plants (the idea that a plant up and decided to eat animals just sounds deliciously wicked to me).
Thats where I like to go to run. Its also where I keep one of my muses (I like to write different sorts of stories with different sorts of voicesand thus I have a very highly fickle fidelity towards my muses). Her hair falls in mossy tendrils her tongue leaves syrupy-sweet bayou rhythms, equal parts blues and reptile croons her breath breeds ghost stories of mummified bog bodies her eyes are pools of darkly reflective water, the color of strong tea, darker than amber.
Still getting over this bug.
Throat feels a little less hellish. I sound a little less like the creature from the Black Lagoon (if he smoked since childhood and habitually chased razor blades with shot glasses of battery acid)my apologies to anyone whos tried having a phone conversation with me this week.
On the good news I lost four pounds todayof mucus.
Im giving my body one more day before I jump to extreme measuresIve gotta finish unpacking, gotta start writing.
Today, I saw a very large deer wander through my backyard. Yesterday, a very large snapping turtle scuttled out of the woods and into the yard, craning its neck like ET. Thats why I like where I live (at least, for the few months that Im not at school or elsewhere) in the northwest burbs. I can watch prodigiously large mammals and reptiles in the yard. Twenty minutes away, and Im in commercially congested burbs (Sears Tower in distant view on a clear day). Forty minutes away, and Im in the city proper. Twenty-Five minutes another way, and Im at Six Flags. Fifteen minutes, yet another way, and Im at the only quacking bog in Illinois, with its floating islands of sphagnum moss, dark-acidic water, and carnivorous plants (the idea that a plant up and decided to eat animals just sounds deliciously wicked to me).
Thats where I like to go to run. Its also where I keep one of my muses (I like to write different sorts of stories with different sorts of voicesand thus I have a very highly fickle fidelity towards my muses). Her hair falls in mossy tendrils her tongue leaves syrupy-sweet bayou rhythms, equal parts blues and reptile croons her breath breeds ghost stories of mummified bog bodies her eyes are pools of darkly reflective water, the color of strong tea, darker than amber.