It's never good when I take days off without having very solid plans. I can't simply rest. As long as I'm writing, I can hang onto an illusion that by writing I'm managing to stave off some sort of inevitable catastrophe. The nature of this catastrophe is always vague, but usually begins with homelessness, then explores the nether regions of destitution. This is one reason that I write so much. I imagine writing keeps the wolves at bay. I stop writing, and there's nothing but my thoughts, unless I remain mentally active. So, there's never really any rest, not really. I've just been trying to catch up on all the sleep I lost in December, but I didn't leave the house yesterday and may not today, and the thoughts of catastrophe are pressing in at me. I don't know how people rest, how they take time off, how they stop. My rare "vacations" are rarely restful, as rest of the "not doing anything" sort only stresses me out more.
And it's all sort of beside the point, what I may have hoped to do this week and how the weather is making a shambles of those plans, as the coughing has stopped, finally, and the Bad Tooth has become excruciating again. Spooky's calling the dentist today, and I expect it will be pulled in the next few days. Good riddance.
I have no solid plans for today. But I will fret. I begin to think I should spend today and tomorrow starting something for Sirenia Digest #38.
Something nice yesterday in the mail, something from Neil. I think that was yesterday's one bright spot.
The low point was discovering that there's a very minor error in the header of Sirenia Digest #37. I asked Gordon to correct it, and Spooky's has just done a second mailing to subscribers. The only difference is the correction to the header.
I wonder if I could find something erotic about tooth pain?
Oh, I almost forgot to include something cheerful. (Sarcasm, people.)