Hints on how A.E. Graves spends her imaginary spare time
I have the nerve to wonder why I am so tired.
The wonderful thing about weekends, though, is that naps are possible if I don’t overschedule myself. Yes, I was up at five something, but by eleven (AM!) I went down so hard for a nap that I considered checking my neck for drugged darts.
I needed that.
Unlike this bottle of Pocari Sweat, which I don’t need, but which I am truly enjoying…
I told my mother I felt really bloated.
She helpfully (?) told me that bloating was an early symptom of ovarian cancer for her.
If I’d wanted to be told that any possible symptom is cancer, I would have used a run-of-the-mill search engine to obtain my dread more efficiently.
Driving (or in my case, riding) in a car on a sunny day on a country road has basically been ruined for me, thanks to this UCSF comparison.
No, I am NOT GOING TO SHARE THE ILLUSTRATIONS that went with this analogy.
I have been tired. So tired. How tired? I have been able to achieve REM sleep on public transit.
This is… worrisome.
I’ve been profoundly ill these past few days, the sickest I have been since my December 2022 bout of COVID.
I’m on the mend now, but I’m relieved that my habit of writing posts in advance and scheduling them to post days ahead hides these awkward interruptions to my ability to read/see/type!
If you can avoid getting this season’s respiratory ailments, do so. I give this one zero out of five stars. I DO NOT RECOMMEND IT.