desperance (desperance) wrote,

Doing it Rong. Again.

Okay, so I'm sick. I'm not very sick - the slow progress of this bug is either a tribute to my astonishingly healthy Californian lifestyle or else a dire warning of something very bad heading inexorably my way to lay a very patient siege to my bones - but sick I am, we have determined that. *issues an advisory qoff*

So: sick, check. Sofa, check. Toddy, check. Book? Um...

Here is where I am doing it rong. When I'm sick, I'm supposed to fall back on comfort reads, old favourites, the undemanding or the wallow. As soon as I acknowledged the sickness, I should've laid all else aside and reached for a buoyant lifejacket book.

Instead of which, I am still reading The Mayor of Castro Street, the life and times of Harvey Milk. And I've just reached the inexorable very bad bit. Hey-ho.

Come to think, I'd better be better by tomorrow; we have tickets for The Mikado. I'm told that it's singalong night. I guess whatever happens I will not be singing along; I barely have a voice to speak with. (Mildly to my astonishment, m'wife is a G&S newbie. We watched Topsy-Turvy last night, just to give her a little background. I'd forgotten that Allan Corduner really does play the piano that well.)

...And I just abandoned this posting to talk to her about other things, that we may or may not discuss hereabouts later, and we drifted into the bedroom where the walls are K's TBR pile, entirely lined with books - and my eye fell on Tales of Sector General, which appears to be an omnibus volume. And good lord, I haven't read James White in years, and he is something close to my definition of comfort reading. 'Scuse me, I'm heading back to my sofa...
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