Um, well ...

I'm still a bit (very much) droopy but at least it was an interesting day. (Me, interesting = some kind of circus / fireworks / explosion / big money exchanging hands under dubious circumstances / shady characters / weird animal shenanigans / etc.) This all would have happened without me even leaving my house, but I actually HAD HAD HAD to do some errands in person, things to sign for and swear by, even physicians to see and meds to pick up and such, but of course leaving the Funny Farm just catapulted me into more carnage.

So really, everything's same as usual here. 

You gotta remember ... what I write in my blog is only what I CAN write in my blog. Yes, everything you see is the mere-shadow, oversanitized, highly redacted version of all that actually is. No wonder I have to live in a loony bin.

Nothing new at all to add except that I'm clearly a crazy cat lady geek triathlete.

Wanted to die today every time I was conscious enough to think about it. At 7pm, finally HAD to get out of bed to pee.

Since I was up, showered, ate tea 'n' toast, booted up compoodle. Feel better now.

This is what the termites are doing to my tile floor:

Here's a spider eating a spider on my bathroom wall. I thought at first it was a mutant spider with big extra legs trailing behind it, but on counting and closer inspection, realized what was going on. Go, spidey!

Typhoid. Phucking. Phever. Again.

Woke up in the 'whoa I really can't move' stage and Hobbit Maid hurried to shove me in a taxi without any input from me and off to the clinic. They suggested hospital, I suggested home, but admittedly it isn't good when the doc personally phones you immediately after the bloodwork comes back.

Nevertheless, home it is. How can you get any sleep in hospital? And it really isn't a place you want to be in Indonesia, not even nice ones, unless your alternative is almost certain death.

I'm okay. A little sad. Disappointed to miss the half-marathon on Sunday. Must sleep. Will check back later, of course. Thank you all so much for checking in on me and your kind words. Hot sticky {MELON PRESS} ...

P.S. We all know this, but if I don't want Pop Tarts, and especially if I'm also too sick to freak out about geckos ... it's bad. Like, dread disease bad.

P.P.S. How I slept through this, I don't know, but apparently Phoebe and Lisa tried to make chicken soup for me. Hobbit Maid followed a trail of feathers to find an (only half eaten) chicken on the back doorstep.

Yanti: It's a real bummer being sick and not being able to do anything. I'm bored.
GOD: Ahem, my dear. I did not create the Universe, Life, and All That Is for the sole purpose of entertaining you.
Yanti: Wait, WHAT?! Sulk.
GOD: Thankfully, however, I did create you for the sole purpose of entertaining Life, the Universe, and Everything.
Yanti: WHAT??!?!
GOD: *Chuckle*.
Yanti: I'm not doing that very well either currently, right? Now I feel really useless.
GOD: That's because you ARE useless. So go do something useFUL!
Yanti: All right, all right, I'll find something constructive to do. Maybe even just rest!
GOD: That's my girl.
Yanti: Oh, and one more thing, GOD ...
GOD: *sigh* Yes, dear?
Yanti: Those Manatees! Good grief! They're storming down the path of life, unbridled, in over their heads, brilliant, passionate, spilling over, taking everything with them for the wild ride, and they NEVER SHUT UP! How am I supposed to deal with all that?
GOD: [very, very dryly] I cannot imagine.