"My pockets hurt"
Time for abject whining. Insomnia and illness do not mix well. I've been wandering about the apartment since about 7:00 am, an hour of the day I blessedly have not seen in a long time. "Wandering about" might be an acceptable activity if I had more than 3 connected rooms to wander through. So mostly I end up shuffling in circles and making pathetic noises, picturing Homer Simpson wrapped in a blanket and waving a little "MENTAL" pennant every time I pass the mirror.
In my mostly jobless state, I have had copious amounts of reading time. I must recommend Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian. That is, if you like academic "thrillers" which involve many scenes in libraries and vampires. It sounds campy, and sadly like The DaVinci Code when I describe it, but it's really not. It made me go out and buy Stoker's classic Dracula, which for some unknown reason I had never read before.
Memo to all who bought me book gift certificates: Thank you for feeding my addiction.
"Why won't my baby gain weight?"
"Because it's made of plastic."
"I see..."
In my mostly jobless state, I have had copious amounts of reading time. I must recommend Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian. That is, if you like academic "thrillers" which involve many scenes in libraries and vampires. It sounds campy, and sadly like The DaVinci Code when I describe it, but it's really not. It made me go out and buy Stoker's classic Dracula, which for some unknown reason I had never read before.
Memo to all who bought me book gift certificates: Thank you for feeding my addiction.
"Why won't my baby gain weight?"
"Because it's made of plastic."
"I see..."