I'm sick. I don't know how it happened, I just am. Overnight, perhaps? Saturday morning was the dawn of the sorest sore throat in the history of sore throats. It was also the beginning of large-scale vitamin consumption. And the necessary napping. At my parents house (who, incedentally, have made it to england according to air canada. Yay!). In a way I've been expecting this revolt....this rebellion. My body is forgetful, absentminded. It forgets to hang on to important things like minerals and nutrients, absentmindedly discards them like the socks you leave tucked in the corner when it's just a little too warm out and you want to feel the grass between your toes. Blood tests are always fun times....I despise needles and pricky things, but love watching the techs do that "Iron + Blood = Floating" test that I fail.every.single.time even if I've existed solely on a diet of metal bits from the local hardware store. The look of confusion on their faces when they discover that things like iron, and b12 don't even register on any sort of acceptable scale because in my body they're so freakishly low is almost entertaining. Except for the part where it means I am totally screwed over.
It's beautiful out today, though I think I'll be spending it venturing no further than my front porch, drinking tea, working on screens, designing some fabric and playing with paint. This crazy show of mine is only two weeks away. Any chance someone wants to turn back the clock for me so I could have more time??
In other news, bringing my bass in from its weekly foray to the folklore centre for a lesson brought loads of comments from my neighbour's going away party. My favourite? The guy who offered up a slowly-drawn-out "Nice cello." as if he were sidling up to me at a bar somewhere, complimenting some aspect of my body. Isn't that like trying to compliment me on my eyes by saying 'nice ankles'? Dude....at least pick the right instrument. Though I will give him a little credit. Cellos are hot. Double basses? Hotter.
Also, this nice warm weather means skirt season has finally arrived. About freaking time.