I_am_a_good_war_hen,_propaganda_poster,_ca._1916 I’ve read a lot this weekend, and worked very little, and I am coughing less and feeling better. I’m still rather weak, but I feel sure that continued enforced lying around will do the trick.

I did manage to grade a bunch of papers, update some pages, and get at least a little bit caught up on the books I’m supposed to review.

I even did laundry and tidied my bedroom a bit.

However, I felt weak and helpless whenever I got up and did anything, so at some point this afternoon I decided to lie still and read books by Terry Pratchett anfd Bill Bryson instead of the things I’m paid to read. This seemed as though it would be more strengthening, so that I can get back to work properly tomorrow.

What is it that makes some writing so much better than other writing?

I think it’s the words.

In any case, I felt sufficiently strengthened by this to get up and fry some chicken, which I burnt. I also put a dish of vinegar into the microwave, which had gotten grotty through being used extensively by men to warm up chili. The first pass actually did soften up the stuck-on gunk quite a bit, so I gave it a second shot. That led to horrible smoke pouring out of the microwave, and the subsequent throwing away of the dish. This event probably contributed to the burning of the chicken.

Running around and opening windows and apologizing ensued.

At that point, exhausted by the drama, I reclined on the sofa to nibble on charred chicken and lettuce. I will now take Nyquil and go to bed in a state of misery. I still plan to be All Better tomorrow.