xtcian

11/2/02 It was around 5

11/2/02

It was around 5 in the morning that my fever broke, something that is always such a primal comfort ancient cave dwellers must have known the same feeling, to roll over in their bearskins while everyone is still asleep, let one eye open, and sigh with the relief that they will indeed live to hunt another day. The only thing more impressive than my ability to get every fucking disease coming down the influenza expressway is my body's ability to heal. I've always been a good healer. I always get over things. The only things I don't get over are emotional issues and I'm throwing all kinds of drugs and therapy at those as well.

Tessa lies beside me right now, struggling to sleep, as she battles the same damned flu I just did. If the incubation period is indeed only 1-4 days for this virus, then she no doubt got it from me on Wednesday, and I no doubt got it from Matthew Kinney, whose water I shared at hoops last Sunday. I really do hope several people including my therapist and the folks at Jessica's Halloween party – don't get this one. I was very careful not to touch anyone, washed my hands religiously, and coughed well outside anyone's personal space. Note to people reading this blog: you may want to get a flu shot this year, because this one sucks.

A nice crowd of people are with us at the farm right now: Shelagh Ratner, Liz Mann, and her friends Laura and Jasmine. Dana and Lindsay came over for a rousing chili dinner and an abortive game of Celebrity, then I was left downstairs sitting by myself for a while. With everyone long asleep, I looked outside and was struck by a lovely, surprising snowstorm. I took the new digital camera outside and got this little gem:

the first snow of the year click on the image for a bigger version

Such a soft, reflective, lonely, beautiful moment, I almost wanted to run in and wake everyone up, especially Tessa. I find it hard to enjoy moments on my own, which is very un-Buddhist I guess, but you don't always have that choice. So I share this tiny moment on a windswept hill at 2am with you, whomever you may be.