Not much to say

spent most of yesterday being and feeling ill, didn’t go to the con.  I ended up at Paul’s, thinking I was on my way to go filking, but that didn’t happen.  I was brought tea and had cats sit on and near me, which was therapeutic. Now I just feel grisly and overslept.

Keith tried to call me but I don’t pick up if I don’t recognize the number.  Sure wish that boy would get a cell phone, I think coordination would be a lot easier.

I did manage to pick up Juliana McCorison’s album, and glad am I of that  because the last I saw on her LJ it wasn’t even going to make it to Vancouver in time. I missed her concert but given how grody I was in physical condition, I’m just as happy about that.

Note to self.  If looking at kitchen items that used to be ‘yours’ makes you cry, you ain’t over things yet.  One of these days I’ll be a grown up, but I suspect I’ll be long dead.