Between conference days and holidays, there are only 28 days of school in October and November—the very two months I have to revise my manuscript based on the editorial comments from Flux.
Because of the alltogether too much kidness, I’ve been looking so forward to this week - four consecutive days to write! - that I forgot to propitiate the gods. And now I’ve been smote. Or is it smited? Smoted? How about all of the above.
A disgusting virus has hit the Raedeke children. I’m not even going to say the common name because
1) I love any excuse to use medical terminology and
2) the common name is very close to that of a barnyard disease and you will think I am raising cloven-hoofed (or is it hooved? I’m clearly unable to work out the complexities of the English language today.) children.
We’ve been cursed with Coxsackievirus A16.
The cruelest part of the smiting (smotation?) is this nugget: “There is no specific treatment for Coxsackievirus A16 except time. It takes 5-7 days to run its course.”
There goes the week.
Think of me as you writers write, free of constraints. I’ll be here in my plagued house pureeing food, steeping lots of tea, and working out a propitiation system so I never again forget to appease Seshat, goddess of writing, lady of the house of books.
1 month ago