I woke up at 9am this morning. I felt like I had left the swimming pool just to climb into bed. All soaking wet. Sweat everywhere. It was 9am so I decided to shower and get out of my stifling blankets. I locked the door to the bathroom and then my Dad knocked on the door. He mumbled something, so asked him what he said. He said, "Are you ok?" That's when I realized I was sitting in the bathtub in my pajamas, and the shower curtain was wrapped around me like a hot dog. It took me a few minutes to decide it was worth unlocking the door. He had heard a clunk. I couldn't decide if I was dying or not. He got me water and a piece of bread. He knelt on the floor to make sure I was ok, and I sat on the edge of the bathtub and hung my head in exhaustion. Who knew falling down could be so much work? The doc says I need to eat more (sweeeet!), drink more, rest more (me? rest MORE? hahahahaha) and he stole some of my blood. I don't think he's going to give it back. What he doesn't know is my body is a blood manufacturing MACHINE!




My palm pilot is covered with things I want to be doing right now. But I'm supposed to take it easy. I'll just avoid washing my hand until I feel better.