The illness that has been lingering on the edges of my body for the last week hit me today, fulfilling all my hypochondriac fears. Sadly, I had to go to Mountain View for my seven-minute presentation, but the drive down was fine (and I didn't leave home until eight), I got a decent breakfast and lunch for my troubles, and I drove Chandlord home with me at 1pm, so that was all just dandy. Then I sat at my desk at home and worked for a couple of hours before deciding that work wasn't helping my recovery.
So I sat on the couch, drank some coffee, and read a bit of a book on the many and varied languages of rural France in the period between the Ancien Regimé and WWI, as one does when one is sick. But I rallied to have dinner with Terry, which was good even if I wasn't feeling well enough to continue on to the birthday party she was going to.
And now, in deference to my sore throat and my advanced age, I'm going to bed - goodnight!
So I sat on the couch, drank some coffee, and read a bit of a book on the many and varied languages of rural France in the period between the Ancien Regimé and WWI, as one does when one is sick. But I rallied to have dinner with Terry, which was good even if I wasn't feeling well enough to continue on to the birthday party she was going to.
And now, in deference to my sore throat and my advanced age, I'm going to bed - goodnight!
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