Stress, surrender, and avoidance
My immune system has picked an interesting way to celebrate the coming of Spring, and the sudden release from the school-year stress: by utterly collapsing its defences to a simple cold virus.
And so, I'm home today, as I was yesterday. As usual, illness is a bit of an enforced vacation for me, otherwise I'd almost certainly be worrying over something. The thing about having one's head stuffed-up is that it leaves one blessedly free of any illusions of being able to exercise any sort of complex social responsibilities (apparently, simple nervous exhaustion isn't enough to accomplish the same effect - there actually needs to be some sort of pathogen involved).
Beauty looks like a bloody wreck - more like something out of a plague film than herself. That's a modest exaggeration, but she has five or six significant sores, and several very small ones. The vets, for all they've charged my credit-card, have been of no help with that, though she's had another shot of antibiotics to clear up an infection. She's due to be brought in again next week for another check-up, and another shot. 'Ought to be fun for both of us.
After having fallen asleep thinking about it last night, I texted A-M this morning, telling her that we're going to need to talk. She's had a month now of worrying herself over whatever she's worrying herself over. I offered to take the train down within the next few days, if she's willing; I promised J.E. that I'd pay a visit, and could simply move-up the plans. If A-M doesn't get-up the gumption to answer me, I'll pay the visit later on, and let her know of my plans, to choose what she wants to do.
And so, I'm home today, as I was yesterday. As usual, illness is a bit of an enforced vacation for me, otherwise I'd almost certainly be worrying over something. The thing about having one's head stuffed-up is that it leaves one blessedly free of any illusions of being able to exercise any sort of complex social responsibilities (apparently, simple nervous exhaustion isn't enough to accomplish the same effect - there actually needs to be some sort of pathogen involved).
Beauty looks like a bloody wreck - more like something out of a plague film than herself. That's a modest exaggeration, but she has five or six significant sores, and several very small ones. The vets, for all they've charged my credit-card, have been of no help with that, though she's had another shot of antibiotics to clear up an infection. She's due to be brought in again next week for another check-up, and another shot. 'Ought to be fun for both of us.
After having fallen asleep thinking about it last night, I texted A-M this morning, telling her that we're going to need to talk. She's had a month now of worrying herself over whatever she's worrying herself over. I offered to take the train down within the next few days, if she's willing; I promised J.E. that I'd pay a visit, and could simply move-up the plans. If A-M doesn't get-up the gumption to answer me, I'll pay the visit later on, and let her know of my plans, to choose what she wants to do.