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She said freefall and superdrive would surely cost me dear
It took this month, but I don't feel I have anything to say on LJ at all. The inside of my brain feels like a blank wall. I wrote e-mails to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rushthatspeaks and strange_selkie about the night Abbie died, but I didn't turn them into anything public; that was derspatchel's grief anyway. The Mythic Delirium Kickstarter was successfully funded, meaning there will now be a print edition of the first electronic year, and I didn't post about it, because that was the night Abbie died. I have an idea for a story I can't write because it requires a truckweight of research without which I'll end up saying stupid things about astronomy. And I am in a great deal of physical pain, which never helps. I just feel scraped thin.
(It's not the primary cause, but I found out on Monday that the sore throat I've had since June—for which I saw a doctor at the beginning of July and was told it was viral—actually was strep after all. Even the non-rapid test isn't foolproof. Whee. Now I'm on penicillin, but I went through Readercon with that. I guess I'm even happier the Miscellany went off so well.)
Last night Rob and I saw a double feature of Shaun of the Dead (2004) and Hot Fuzz (2007) at the Brattle Theatre, although we will not be going back for The World's End (2013) on Sunday because it sold out in about three minutes; the manager explained between films that they'd thought the ticketing site was broken until they realized, no, everyone was just that eager to see the new Cornetto film. Afterward we had dinner at The Red House, which turns out to be primarily a seafood restaurant that doesn't advertise as one. We walked by and their menu looked interesting Their lobster risotto is very impressive.
And I am still flat and exhausted this morning. It is not interesting.
rushthatspeaks and strange_selkie about the night Abbie died, but I didn't turn them into anything public; that was derspatchel's grief anyway. The Mythic Delirium Kickstarter was successfully funded, meaning there will now be a print edition of the first electronic year, and I didn't post about it, because that was the night Abbie died. I have an idea for a story I can't write because it requires a truckweight of research without which I'll end up saying stupid things about astronomy. And I am in a great deal of physical pain, which never helps. I just feel scraped thin.(It's not the primary cause, but I found out on Monday that the sore throat I've had since June—for which I saw a doctor at the beginning of July and was told it was viral—actually was strep after all. Even the non-rapid test isn't foolproof. Whee. Now I'm on penicillin, but I went through Readercon with that. I guess I'm even happier the Miscellany went off so well.)
Last night Rob and I saw a double feature of Shaun of the Dead (2004) and Hot Fuzz (2007) at the Brattle Theatre, although we will not be going back for The World's End (2013) on Sunday because it sold out in about three minutes; the manager explained between films that they'd thought the ticketing site was broken until they realized, no, everyone was just that eager to see the new Cornetto film. Afterward we had dinner at The Red House, which turns out to be primarily a seafood restaurant that doesn't advertise as one. We walked by and their menu looked interesting Their lobster risotto is very impressive.
And I am still flat and exhausted this morning. It is not interesting.
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We did not, and if somehow there were to have been transmission between the two of us, it would most likely have gone the other direction, as Little Springtime had had a bout of it earlier in the summer--which is to say, it's running around New England.