It’s not working again, Gentle Reader, my meds that usually knock me out. My feet are throbbing and my blisters are popped and hurt and my lizard monkey brain is going a hundred miles a minute. I’m trying some warm milk right now to see if that can fix me. And a biscuit. Because.
Worrying about the virus. Worrying about travel. Worrying about my feet. Worrying about travel travel travel travel travel. I am ALL OVER England on this trip. Friday I’m in Bath; next Wednesday I’m in York. Then I’m to Ireland. The rest of the time I am bouncing all over the place. I am pre-exhausted. But I don’t really have a day off until Sunday.
Meep.
The Postmodern Bluestocking 