Garoo

Not much blogged these days. That’s because the window, uh, shutters? are broken. So it’s cold at night, and my throat hurts, and I’m now thinking it’s not because of the Buffy soundtrack. And my head hurts, too. And I want to eat all the time but there’s not enough room in my stomach. (Though that part is hardly new.) And my blanket isn’t warm enough—and, no, I don’t need a human blanket, because in a couple I’m always the one heating up the bed (and I’m not saying this with sexual innuendo, although on second thought maybe I should). And, uh, well, so, as I was saying, the nights are cold because it’s my birthday, uh, that is, because it’s February, so I, uh, did I mention I’m sick? Cause that was pretty much the original point of that post. So if I didn’t mention it, it’s time I do. Or maybe I’d better go to sleep, but the main reason I’m not going is that I’m afraid it’ll be worse tomorrow. And the day after, and so on and so forth until I die of pneumonia in front of my computer screen. (Because obviously the last of my strength would be devoted to moving the keyboard and screen next to me on my bed; what do you think a blogger would do in his last hours?)