3:14 p.m. - 2003-10-01
Fall Illness
It has been, shall we say, unseasonably cold the last few days here. Of course, you realise that unseasonably cold translates into about 70 degrees. Still, there has been what passes for a brisk breeze and the air has just the slightest twinge of what could pass for crispness.
It's making me very homesick for New England. Especially since the sugar maple in our front yard (one of a very few I have seen here) stays resolutely green. Last year it didn't lose its leaves until Thanksgiving, and I think that was only because we had a dry spell. It certainly wasn't a result of abyssmal cold.
The weather has also caused my body to kick into fall mode. True to a long-standing yearly tradition, in the fall my body decides that it would be really wonderful if I could just lie in bed all day reading, preferably something by one of the Beat poets or perhaps one of Britain's "Angry Young Men". In an effort to bring this fantasy to life, my immune system punts out and I get a spectacular cold.
I can feel it coming on, slowly but surely. My throat feels scratchy and my nose is feeling drippy. The rest of me is functional, but rapidly taking on that worn out feeling like I've been picking cotton all day or waiting on tables full of soccer louts or something.
I should just go to bed with one of those books.
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