In which the author attempts to enjoy staying home.

I'm not being good today.

I woke up at about 6:30 this morning, feeling absolutely wretched. Not really sick, but very bad cramps (and it's a week early!) and tired and headachey. I went back to sleep for a little bit, but was awake again within an hour. Repeat process. It's now 8:30, and I rather sluggishly manage to compose some email to TPTB at my job, saying 'Sorry. Being Victorian and lying in today.'

Then I went back to bed until noon. Ah, glorious. You'd think I'd wake up rested, wouldn't you? Nope. My body seems incapable of relaxing enough for sleep to do any good. It felt nice to lie around in bed, though, watching the light change and petting the cat.

Eventually I did get up, took a shower, ate some of my food (I went grocery shopping! I have _so_ much food, and I feel personally responsible for eating all of it in the next month. What a burden.) and am now lying around in bed again -- this time wrapped in my brother's plaid bathrobe, which is way too big for me and thus comforting. I wonder if he'll make me give it back to him before I move?

So, with no intention to accomplish anything today before I pick Earl up around 1730, I plan to read The Vor Game by Lois McMaster Bujold. Eventually my headache will go away and then I'll probably mud some, before finally putting on Real Clothes and driving very fast to San Jose to pick Earl up from the airport -- which, yes, I am looking forward to immensely.

At least I have groceries.