I’ve been unwell the past few days—a bad reaction to a new prescription preceded by either a worse reaction to another new prescription or a 24-hour virus. My mind has been off wandering aimlessly around some abandoned part of town while I got to spend 48 hours in bed, waiting to feel better.
Normally, I’d be giddy with the thought of spending some time lounging around, reading books I’ve wanted to read, with no responsibilities and no interruptions. But when every part of your body is on strike—my skin even protested the gentle spray from the shower, and more so the towel afterward—and the thermometer says 102.3, lying around loses its luster.