31 July 2004
Croak, croak, croak.
I used to have a consistent way of getting a cold. I would get sneezy. Then it would start to get post-nasal-drippy. Then it would move down into my chest and rattle around being a big barky cough. Then it would move back up the throat to post-nasal-drip again, then sneezes again, and then gone.
Now I seem to be skipping straight to the cough.
It's one of those days when I'm best off lying down or lounging on pillows. Wheeeee.
I finished reading Lost in a Good Book yesterday, and I was not impressed. I won't be reading any more of that series. I read Caroline Stevermer's A Scholar of Magics and enjoyed it muchly, more than A College of Magics, though I'm still looking forward to The Grand Tour. Then I read E. Rose Sabin's A School for Sorcery, which was just plain awful. Now I've picked up Charles de Lint's The Wild Wood. Sick times are good book times. Birthday times are good book times. The combination...is still not so hot, but there are worse things imaginable. Easily.
Despite all this, I passed up page 500 of Sampo yesterday, and I've picked at it a little bit today and probably will do a bit more this evening. Some days baby steps are what you can handle.
And the main page.
Or the last entry.
Or the next one.
Or even send me email.