Sunday

Ugh. Saturday night was fevered and creepy, filled with the kind of math problem dreams I'm always convinced that I have to solve before I can wake up. Of course I woke up about every forty-five minutes, but that just meant I had to hurry back to sleep to keep working on that math. It is interesting to watch the brain clinging to lucidity. Sunday afternoon I was still pretty sickly and Sunshine started coming down with it, too. It was shaping up to be another laying-on-the-couch-and-watching-TV day. On days like this, our unit's comparative smallness doesn't feel so "cramped" as "cozy," and after a couple cups of whatever herbal tea we picked up Tuesday, our sickbed was almost comfortable. When I feel like complaining about the residence here, it's little things about the complex that annoy me most. I complain about amenities. That free shuttle to the nearby metro stop? It runs every ten minutes, except between nine twenty am and three pm, or after nine twenty at night, when it does not run at all. Think about it; that's nearly useless. The little convenience store across the exercise yard? Well, it certainly is well stocked: it's packed with very good beer and several brands of Korean instant noodle meals, coffee filters, and tropical juices. But the store only takes cash, and there is no ATM anywhere on the Oakwood property. Today, Sunshine scrounged up all of our change and managed to come up with enough for a microwaveable pizza, wavy potato chips, and Coke. Neither of us felt like digging the car out of its plowed-in parking space to eat out or walking to the corner where there is a gas station with a bank machine. I made the tea: lemon, honey, and whiskey. We persevered. [Cavin]