My Gehry Designed Life

To the ever expanding list of ignominies Life has seen fit to build into my entertainments, add a scabrous throat infection.  I picked it up nine days ago while overnighting on the rez and it's beginning to make me cranky.  I'm plagued with a relentless sore throat and a cough that hurts.  Can't sleep (longest stretch was last night from 11 til 2:30), have tried all the drugs they'll sell me, all to Noah Vale.

Herself, off ministering to the sugar diabetics of the Cree Nation the land that has no phone service, offers up non-stop suggestions by email.  "See a doctor"  "Get some antibiotics"  "Gargle with salt water"  Like I'm supposed to be able to assemble and cook salt water by myself?

For the past few days I've mostly sat, glowering, in my Ancient Blue Chair, fending off the advances of cats and - oh yes!  something new! - marauding kamikazes of tiny black flying things.  Haven't gotten a close enough look yet to determine whether they're miniature flying monkeys, but with the levels of aceteminiphen in my system, anything is possible.  They've designed their sorties to where they zip by really close to my face, so when I swing wildly at them there's a 50/50 chance I'll either whack myself on the side of the head or at least knock my glasses over to the side.

And she worries that I'll be bored and won't be entertained when she's gone.