Here I am wondering where the most ideal place in my apartment is to begin simultaneously puking and shitting. I think a room with tile, no? Not that that is likely to happen, but at this point I kind of wish it would. I have a feeling the nausea is a distraction tactic, a move to not-so-subtley move my attention from the unnamed terror inside.
In fact, I had a dream this morning where the exact action described above was happening to me in a wood paneled group shower/toilet/computer lab, but joining me was not one of the young ladies I shared my art museum/dorm room with, but my friend Matt Mn. He was sitting right behind me, near the toilet, cracking jokes and I kept thinking, "Get out of here! Get out of here! I am going to poop! Why is he still here?" He was funny though.
All this to say that I am not feeling well and my recent reading been mostly work-related. Well why don't you write up some of those books you already read, you say?
Nobody likes a nag, I say back.