Feeling: less than stellar
Listening to: Jeff Buckley - Sweet Thing
Reading/Watching: Acorna's Search

It's funny, how when I'm sick, I get all quiet and self-pitying. People have commented how I have a hangdog look when I'm not feeling well.

I look at my face in the mirror, and it seems the same to me...?

But yeah, Luna is sick (no AC, constantly overheating, which in June is badbad), so I called my sister-in-law's dad, who likes to work on cars as a hobby, and asked him to recommend a good mechanic in the area. I'm taking her in to be looked over.

I am sick, as well. What started as a dry throat on Monday has become a screaming red, iron-maiden-around-my-tonsils sore throat that I am finally going to see a doctor about today, even though insurance doesn't cover any doctors in Schoolville.

Calling home to tell my mother about it, I was listening to her talk in her soft, Betty-Crocker-wishes-she-talked-like-this voice, and I started weeping like a child, remembering being sick when I was six and having Mommy come to school to bring me home, where I got chicken and stars for lunch and could watch TV on the couch, which was covered with a sheet so I could use it as a bed. Good times.

Don't ask me why it made me cry, except maybe because I knew the Mommy-voice was 200 miles away and I was on my own, and not to sound like a preschooler, but my throat hurts, and I want someone to come take care of me.

And tomorrow I head north for a family reunion, which I am praying I will not be too contagious to attend.

...Jeff Buckley cracks me up sometimes. I wonder if he ever regretted being a Mystery White Boy?

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