Easter weekend brought a visiting Petronia, also a sinus infection that fuzzed the first two days of same. But she was as entertainingly informative as ever, ranging from artisanal beers to the population of ancient Mexico to the head-hurting intricacies of who owns what part of Hannibal Lecter (Paramount has the liver- no, OK, I'll shut up) to how much echinacea is needed for an effective dose to the best way of roasting a chicken. She also got to see the Yayoi Kusama exhibition so I don't have to.
Followed then four early mornings in a row, three for work and one for a totally unnecessary visit to the doctor, because the screwup with my meds wasn't her sending me the tacit message 'see me about your painkillers' but the pharmacy dropping a zero from the prescription and giving me ten tablets instead of a hundred. I staggered through the week and slept twelve hours last night and get to do this all over again next week, when the unfortunate combination of someone's holidays and someone else's religious feasts and a series of seminars for the staff and the uni's exam period leaves us badly short of working bodies. Again, I'm not the one working ten hour shifts, but after four hours I feel as if I had been.
My doctor is death on pseudoephedrine but after a week of rehashing the last act of Traviata and producing vast quantities of sludge from the lungs, I bought a pack of Sinutabs and at last had a dry(ish) night last night. The irritating wheeze and rattle continue, but I prop me up on pillows and ignore it.
Lack-of-will reading is Emma Newman's Split Worlds series, or A Series of Unfortunate Decisions. Can't say if it's me or her, but the machinations leave me befuddled and I'm never sure what it is Cathy's agreed to help Max with, or vice versa, and why. Shall only say that her Fae cast Incandescens' ones in a much better light, though I see parallels between Lord Poppy and Carriger's Akeldama.