Jill Murray

I’ve been having a rough month since about early November. This time hasn’t been without its highlights as well (more on that later), but mainly it’s been difficult. I’ve been trying to push through everything and pathetically, joylessly, melodramatically get on with it, but lately my stress has been catching up with me in the form of physical illness. Yesterday, for example, I was supposed to go to Montreal, but instead came down with a stomach bug that kept me up all night and in agony all day.

I don’t normally get stomach bugs. They happen to me no more than twice a decade, but when they do happen, their timing is spectacular. Luckily, the rapper has been extraordinarily attentive, going above and beyond the call of duty to cancel his Sunday plans to fetch things for me and sit with me at the end of the couch, just because I suggested I felt at least 10% better with my feet in his lap.

I’m finally recovering today, but man am I tired. I did not realize how much effort was required for sitting. When I get better, I am going to start counting sitting as exercise, and give up on all this walking and dancing nonsense I’ve been insisting keeps me feeling good. I do not know how good I’ve been having it, what with just being able to sit at my computer day in and day out. I shall enjoy that more from now on.

I have a big, fat manuscript deadline coming up in a few short weeks, so I’m propping myself up in bed today, alternating between napping and typing and napping (this is not even the source of my stress, so don’t worry), and occasionally crawling down to see what new food item in the fridge suddenly looks digestible. Score one for apple juice, dry toast, black tea and ginger cookies.