Now, unfortunately, I'm starting to get sick. I've been feeling it coming on since last night, and it's been just at the back of my head all day. I feel icky, but not sick enough to stay home from work. I may, however, have to not see Dave Insley tonight (wah!)... although fortunately for me, he's local and he'll be back there next Friday. We'll see if I can shake the galloping icks. Right now it's just head pressure, lightheadedness, and back-of-the-throat, plus intense weariness (so much that I apparently slept through three hours of dog barking... sorry, hon').
I did wake up when Cuervo had to forcefully let us know we'd gone to bed without refilling the cat dish. I lay like a rock for a while before Barb went to hollar at him, then I finally dragged myself up, filled the dish, and went back to sleep. I had a strange dream which I only remember parts of, including carrying Cairo around in a purse (which he would never sit still for).
I found out today that we are in what is referred to as the "arts district" of Phoenix. They were talking to one of our district representatives, whom I happily voted for, and they said that was the district she represents. Apparently, Kyrsten Sinema is the youngest representative ever elected to the Arizona State Legislature, and she's very progressive and very liberal (they read one of her bumper stickers -- "Bush/Cheney 1984" Ho ho). Our district's state senator is openly gay, so it all fits together nicely (he was the first state senator to ever come to my house doing his own canvasing--nice guy). Our district was probably what helped make red Maricopa a little more purple. Now I need to find those arts. (I've always known we're in a very gay neighborhood; the old ABCO was always filled with gay couples shopping; several of the clerks at the new Sprouts are likewise setting off the gaydar.)
Only one person has asked for a copy of "the book." My self-promotion sucks (but then, I don't know how many people actually read this journal--and what is a journal for, really, but to yammer on to oneself?).