y headache kept me from getting more than two hours of sleep Saturday night, and up 'til about 4am last night. Not as bad this morning, but still a gross throat and such, too, and the sad news that little Owen seems sick, too, so I apparently managed to be infectious on Friday. Woke up to mail about friede
having her flight to London waved off because of snowstorms and her being delayed in Glasgow, which I would love
so that I could try to hang with nimoloth
. So I've been chatting with friede
a bit this morning, as she looks at British Airways from her computer in the lobby of her airport Ramada Inn, trying to find some way to get down to Chawton to start up her residency in Jane Austen's old digs which are now a research library to which she won a notable fellowship for her 18th Century studies.
The annoying thing is that it happened just as I felt like I had a really good rhythm going on my current chapter. I got two or three pages of good writing in on Saturday. Now I'm in that "It's kind of hard work and painful to watch a DVD" state. Mercifully, though, Saturday's mail brought Smallville
season 7, just in time for the justifiable DVD-binging that is the only good thing about being sick.