Sigh. Still sick. Mild symptoms, certainly, but under the weather. A light fever, perhaps, aches and headaches, a cough, and mostly just tired and kinda out of it. I’m over it. Doesn’t make good journaling, I know, but that is the state of things.
Thankful that work has been pretty chill so far this week. It was not last week, or the week before, so…that’s good. I’m ready, though! I want to be back at it. Enough of sitting around and taking a break. I want to dive into writing the book, and outlining the next. Finally. But…I’m not going to push that until I’m recovered. It would do no good.
Coops continues to be his normal self. Joy continues to be cray. They’re both with me right now in the guest bedroom. That’s where I’ve been shacking up while I’m sick. So far Liz hasn’t got what I have, so that’s good. We decided we’re pretty sure I got it from the Kings. Matches their symptoms.
Warriors won. Destroyed the Suns. As they should have. Most everyone else also won, though, so things remain insanely bunched up. So long as they avoid the play-in. That’s the only thing that matters at this point.
Working my way through the rest of the Shakespeare recordings. Read some Titus Andronicus. Good lord is that a…big play. And I mean un-subtle. It feels earlier than the others of his I’ve read so far. It’s much more clumsy, I think, except perhaps for The Two Gentlemen of Verona. The poetry is rougher, and the scenes themselves are much more apt to take wild turns that don’t actually make sense for real people. Perhaps all it means is that he didn’t go back and revise it as much as he did the earlier plays. I’d definitely believe that.
Anyway…time for sleep. Wish me luck with this cough. I had to bring out the big guns last night to finally get to sleep. Night night.