Friday 10 September 1999

Bed
Pic of the day: My bed looks so empty without ... me.
(And with brand new bedcovers, too.)
...

How long a time was Adam in Paradise? At 03:40 or so in the night, I woke up from not being able to breathe. Well, I could breathe somewhat, but not much. I was very tired, but this was simply too much to ignore. I got up, took a teaspoon of cough syrup, and put a kettle of water to boiling to fill the room with steam. I am not sure if that was the right reaction, as I'm not sure what caused the lack of breath. I just remember the steam treatment from when I was a child and had asthma attacks.

I am still very tired as of writing this (04:20) but I hesitate to go to sleep while I'm like this. The idea of dying in my sleep does not appeal to me, and particularly not compared to surviving. I guess my childhood memories of asthma attacks in the night have influenced me too.

Oh, and to further boost my spirits as well as those of my faithful readers, I've got diarrhea. Then again, I virtually always have after I've visited Superwoman's family. I suspect the unusual bacteria flora, unusual food, unusual meal times, and usually too much food. This time, however, I ate no more than usual. Then again, on Wednesday I ate chicken salad. Chicken being our main source of salmonella, I tend to avoid it when possible. This time this was not very possible, so I prayed and ate it. Our prayers are always answered, but sometimes the answer is no. Or so I have heard. I guess that was meant to be cute. Hmf.

...

And now, just like that, it is evening. I went to sleep at dawn and slept a few hours. Woke up with somewhat restricted breathing again, but woke up. That's what matters, right? I've spent the day at home relaxing and re-hydrating. (Yeah, I've been drinking soup and such, but "oral rehydration" sounds a lot more impressive.)

I've noticed a strange pattern in my journal. After I tell about how happy I am, there will usually follow an entry or more about me being sick or ill in some way. Coincidence? Divine providence? Or perhaps my body releases extra energy at the start of fending off an infection, and this makes me feel more than usual good? (I tend to feel good all the time when I'm reasonably healthy, but sometimes it's just delicious to be me and that's when I'm most likely to mention it.)

...

Oh, and I've been throwing out papers. Two shopping bags full of newspapers from long long ago. When you've not read them in ten years, you are not likely to. I guess some of the computer magazines should go the same way ... there is still some space in the green bin (for paper recirculation).

But the comic books stay. Presumably they will be here as long as I live. If I live long enough to become senile, I can read them again and again for the first time. Even if not senile, I may still want to read them again. (Though at the moment, I can remember almost all of them in surprising detail.) And some of them are most certainly worth money. The first ten issues of Preacher are in there. A disgusting story (that's what you get from buying on name alone) but disturbingly popular among collectors. There are also the complete "Prosjekt X" run from Semic. Not in mint condition, but not drooled on or cut either. I bet they must be worth something. And a Superboy from my childhood. One could open a small store of comic books from my stacks. Of course, chances are that they will be thrown in containers and dumped on the landfill when I die. How likely is it that whoever finds them will know the first thing about comic books? The obvious solution is to not die, and sell them myself when the State refuses to pay my pensions because there's no money left.

Hey, if it was up to me I would live forever. Life is good.


Adrift in time?
Yesterday (Yes, I believe in yesterday.)
This month
Tomorrow (if any.)

Visit the Diary Farm for the older diaries I've put out to pasture.


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