ALL ALONE IN THE NIGHT

I haven't written to this blog for a while because I've been home sick and miserable, having sunk down into that depression that accompanies all illnesses that last more than a few days, having succumbed to those fears – what if I never get better? What if my voice never really comes back? What if my fever does brain damage? Not to mention, will I ever catch up on all the work I'm not doing while I'm home gasping for breath?

It's probably just the drugs talking, but I'm not going to know that for a while yet.

So, things haven't been pretty chez moi and so I have chosen not to inflict it on you. It's not that I haven't had anything to day during this epic-length downtime; it's just that most of the time I'm too doped up to say it coherently (and I don't think the world needs another William S. Burroughs wannabe). And when I come out of my hydrocodone haze I'm too acutely uncomfortable and unhappy to do anything but whine, which nobody likes to hear or read about.

For instance, right now, just at midnight (a midnight that put an official end to the very worst weekend of my entire life), I'm having trouble breathing again, or rather doing entirely too much breathing, so much breathing so fast that it's making me tired, but not tired enough to sleep so mostly I'm sitting here breathing and typing between breaths. You didn't really want to hear about that, did you?

But please don't desert me, dear readers, just because it's been a few days since I've put up something new here. I promise, I'll make up for the lost time when I get better.

There's a lot more stuff going on that we need to consider.