I'm sick to my stomach and missing a reading with Leslea Newman that I really wanted to go to, but you can't always have what you want and I've been tired for the past couple of days. I'm sure I'll see Leslea another time. Although, it does seem every time she gives a reading in the area I'm sick or otherwise occupied. However, I decided it was more important to go to the Jobs with Justice thing and the Florence poets than to push myself and go to this reading. Had it been next week, when Allison Betchdel was going to be there I would have pushed myself a little harder because I adore that woman. It's weird when you get to interact with people who you think "when I finally grow up, I want to be just like you".

In good news, which thankfully there was some today, my new chair can get repaired because apparently my insurance company discovered some flaw in a batch of chairs that were sent to Western Mass. One of which, scarily belonged to a kid, according to my repairman. They say it should take two weeks. I'm banking on four because I know these people. It should be back by Christmas at least and I can continue writing the book which I had to abandon while it was being fixed.

I really hope I feel better tomorrow. My assistant thinks I got food poisoning. I'm not sure though because wouldn't I have gotten sick last night? I guess I'll never be able to tell.

Categories: writing [t], illness [t], wheelchair [t]

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