February 17, 2005

Ending Year 1

Today is a quasi-birthday for this site (though not all of it at this particular web location). I crawled out of the wreckage over at Bloghosts, around Christmas, and revived the site here at Mu.nu, and then almost immediately went into a series of individually minor setbacks and health problems, making this a much less spiffy birthday than I thought I’d have.

But that’s the luck of the blog, or whatever phrase the selfstyled old-timers use in these cases. Me, I just feel depleted. Tired way the hell beyond what I should be, sleeping in chunks and living in segments. Ground down, and not even a little kiss from the Fates to let me know it was all just a bad jest.

Posted by Weaselteeth at 01:39 AM | Comments (6)

January 30, 2005

Another circle

This week has been even less fun than a 40-car pile-up on a fog-bound divided freeway. Hacking and coughing until I feel dangerously close to passing out. Fighting for air in even the most simple tasks, such as walking from one room to the next.

So in about nine hourws from now I'll be back at the VA, getting seen by my primary care physician.

Ostensibly it'll be a trip to see about getting my own Albuterol prescription (and not mooching from my wife). But I think the way this has gone, absolutely anything is possible.

Posted by Weaselteeth at 11:51 PM

January 26, 2005

Adventures in Misery

Odd thing how we can convince ourselves, I’m past this nonsense now, I am HEALED, I say!—and of course that’s a baldfaced cantankerous lie.

She Who Must Be Obeyed was running a solid 11 on the 10-point Guilt-O-Meter, after missing two days from work. And the one thing she has going for her is how truly rare it actually is that she misses work. “I’ll go in and give it a try,” quoth Herself.

So before leaving for work, yuuuuust a quick one-block trip to a nearby food and convenience store. And that dragged on. And on. And on.

At last she got home, looking like she’d gone four out of five falls with the Debbil hisself. “That's it,” she declared. “I got halfway out of the driveway and realized I’d never make the seven-mile trip to work. You should have seen me in there, coughing like crazy—infecting anyone around me.”

Doing your share, my love, doing your share. With luck we will re-infect whoever gave this to us, just when they thought they were HEALED.

Me? I’ve been sleeping an hour at a time—90 minutes at most. I think I mentioned earlier, for all I know this is actually March 32. I’m at that point in my arrested development.

Posted by Weaselteeth at 09:34 PM