I woke up feeling sore all over. I love being sore, but there is only a fine line to achey, which no one likes...
 

 
My only respite from a bad headache is sweet sleep.
 

 
Matthew wants me to make him an online wine journal. I'm trying to figure out how to make the background emulate the rich tones of a glass of red wine.
 

 
_________________
Thursday
8 November 2001

 

7 35 am pst [ awake ]

Yes, my tush is awake at 7 in the morning. I knew better than to go to sleep early, but those kids wore me out with their deliriously fun game of freeze tag. I got tagged a lot!

Of all the perplexing and annoying spam I get, the new king of the has to be:

Hey Mike I just got in I will give you a buzz in an hour or so

It doesn't come with a virus attached or anything. That the entire message. Someone bought a CD or three million e-mail addresses just to send that out. Wow! They get points for being creative.

I did notice that I didn't get any spam mail for about twelve hours following the terrorist attacks, but the recession was replaced by a whole new collection of messages for the sale of gas masks, American flags, American flag pins, and my personal favorite, patriotic Santa wearing stars and stripes. I don't read my mail in an HTML-mail enabled reader, so most of the glory is lost on me. When a message says "This is the nastiest site you will ever see!" I can't view any of the accompanying images that are supposed to entice me to click. A shame, I know...


 

11 24 pm pst [ pain ]

Slicing, searing, sharp. right behind my eyes. Behind the bridge of my nose. Migrane. Blurry keyboard. The feeling that life isn't so grand. The smell of myself. "Ready for bed?" he asks. Oh yes. "Will you look at me? You look really pale." I'm sure I do. Pain. Pain. Remind me to tell you about that thesis on pain I once heard of. It might make you laugh...