Thursday, December 28, 2006
My older sister loaned me a novel about the fictional account of a boy whose father died at World on the Tower. I had presumed I would find it noxious, but the story really was quite good. Next I still need to finish an Umberto Eco novel begun several weeks ago, and a commentary on Tibullus' elegies. Then, overloading as usual, last night I started reading the English version of a work of classical scholarship written by a French author.
My throat hurts, for one of either April's father or niece or nephew spread some foul cold disease unto April and me. We took DayQuil in the morning before leaving for Austin to water April's plants and feed her fish. I had earlier expressed interest in visiting campus and the Capitol, but after walking around the University for a little bit, I felt moody and only wanted to nap. Later we went for margaritas at an outdoor restaurant with some of April's school friends, and I felt a little better.
Tomorrow April may take Katt (her cat) to the vet, so I may stay indoors and read.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 7:46 PM]