I'm still not sure if I'm sick, or what I might have. I woke up feeling much better this morning, mostly because I slept so soundly, thanks to Nyquil. And I slept in later than I ordinarily would on a Monday. At first I thought I'd recovered completely from whatever I was complaining about yesterday, but as the day wore on and I ran my errands and contended with the phone, I felt more and more as if I were trying to run through a wall of jell-o. I think I'm better, but I'll give it another day to either set in completely or go away.

So yesterday, I had all this time on my hands and no energy. I got up off the couch when I needed to fill my water glass, but I didn't feel like eating — and I really didn't feel like fixing anything to eat. So I had some toast and some yogurt. That was enough. And while I was down like that, I ran through the shows TiV0 had saved for me over the weekend, starting (of course) with Survivor. Then ER, Friends, Once and Again, the Thanksgiving episode of General Hospital. And that's about it. As soon as the Ten O'clock News was over, I was in bed.

Today I tried to remember to keep myself hydrated. I think not drinking enough water (no one's fault but my own) (and along with drinking too much wine, also my fault) was a big part of my problem over the weekend. I was either sick or not yesterday, but I was definitely hung over Friday, and that was just as bad. Worse, maybe, considering the added element of guilt.

It's possible I'm in better shape than I think I am, because I managed to avoid dosing up with anything today, except for one zinc lozenge when my throat started feeling scratchy this afternoon.

At least I didn't go through the schizoid turmoil of last night, when I would freeze to the point of brittleness every time I tried to walk, even though the furnace thermostat was turned up to the danger zone.

Then I would lie down with what we used to call an afghan over me. Saying that six months ago wouldn't have raised an eyebrow. Now it sounds dirty. Anyway, I'd lie on the sofa covered with a knitted blanket, resting my feet on an ottoman. (Just kidding; I don't have an ottoman. Or an Ottoman.) And I'd be burning up within two minutes. That was horrible.

I just realized I was supposed to go out to lunch today. No, I didn't miss a date. An old friend is visiting from Texas, his first time back in California in two years. He was going to call me this morning so we could get together before he flies home. It's a good thing he didn't call, because I wouldn't have been able to make an excuse, and by now I'd be feeling even worse. So might he, for all I know. I'm sure something came up. I just hope it was a good thing and not a bad thing.