Well, I'm not deathly ill, but I wonder if it wouldn't be better if I was. The deathly ill are permitted to remain in bed, or are at least pitied enough so as to escape censure when their work isn't up to snuff.

My throat is still hurting, though it's somewhat better than it was this morning. I gargled a bunch of salt water, and have been drinking lots of ice water all day. My head feels "full," but I'm not congested or anything. And my vision keeps doing funny things; my head starts hurting, so I take off my glasses, but then I start feeling dizzy until I put them back on. Makes me glad I didn't wear my contacts today.

Grrr. My coworkers are celebrating midafternoon with apple pie. I'm not hungry, so I look like an antisocial reject. Great.

I've only seen Rose and her mother once since the wedding, which was about two and a half years ago, and I miss them both so much. Rose was the baby who first made Eric consider having children of his own. I remember seeing the look of pride and love on her daddy's face when he would come home from work during the days when I would care for her. She loved anything that happened to be the color yellow. She was a sweet child.

Her mother was my first friend at college. She and I were very close during our early years there. We drifted apart slightly when she moved off campus, but became closer when she found herself pregnant and decided to marry the father. We had almost decided to share an apartment that year; sometimes I wonder how differently her life would have turned out if we had. Perhaps she would have stayed in school. I know I can't take responsibility for any of her decisions, but I still wonder. She was a wonderful friend.

I've tried to contact her since, but her number is unlisted (the divorce was quite messy) and she doesn't seem to have a publicly listed email address. In a world where it's impossible to disappear, she has effectively disappeared from my life.