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Jon and I have both been under the weather. Which nicely derailed the progress I had made on the book. I still know exactly the scene and what comes next, but I have two choices of which branch the mystery follows, and I bloody can’t decide. But feeling a wee unwell makes all decisions feel hard.
We watched more of The Last Detective with Peter Davison. We watched Lilo and Stich. Trin is with us this weekend. I finally had had all I could stand of being on the couch and watching T. V., so I went down and got on the treadmill. In some ways I felt better, but a little over thirty minutes into the workout, I started feeling dizzy and nauseous and unwell. Thirty minutes is not enough to make me feel like that, but when you’re sick you probably shouldn’t work out. Heck, I often don’t work out if the day’s work expands too much. So why today already feeling unwell did I get on the treadmill? Stubbornness? Well, yeah, but, also, I just couldn’t take it anymore. Do you ever have one of those moments when you have to do something physical or you’ll just run screaming. So better to run on the treadmill than in the street. Less for the neighbors to get all weird about.
It was a sort of claustrophobic day. Not sure why. Just ill enough to not have any energy, but not ill enough to really enjoy the laying about.
Anyway, we’re off to bed. I hear our dulcet darling moving about upstairs. She should have been in bed, asleep, some time ago. Trin is now and always has been a late night person. She gets a second wind about nine or ten and can go for hours. She’s not really a fan of mornings. But our little night owl lives in a world of morning larks, as don’t we all, so we pretend. We pretend that we all have the same bio rhythms. Which we so do not. Anyway, we’re off to put our little owl in bed, and we sickly ones to our bed.