September 29th, 2003

Francine - harvest

Late but not dead


If I could write with any degree of coherence, I'd be at work and not at home coughing up my second lung when I breathe too deeply and wishing someone would take the icepick out of my skull. To anybody I should've been online with and wasn't, apologies. Spent the weekend on the couch, when not in the emergency room being told that there was nothing direly wrong with me and here, have these anti-nausea pills and by the way you're anemic.

However. Because it's been commanded:

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