My antibiotics have kicked in and I'm getting better. Now I hack yellow phlegm and sound like a mtf tranny when I speak. I'm working it.
John's still here and he has a stomach flu. I have five hours to read everyone's pieces for my writing group tonight. The yellow phlegm is coming and coming.
I need to do another round of sending shit out to publications, but it's so exhausting. Maybe when the yellow phlegm leaves, or when my ex-boyfriend moves out, or when this whole balcony situation resolves itself one way or another.
It should probably be now, though. There will always be something. And time moves.