19 October 2001

NyQuil has betrayed me.

I counted upon NyQuil, upon its shining green ghastliness. With NyQuil, I thought, anybody could get a full night's sleep. Even me. Anybody could be so knocked over that they would just sleep the night away, especially someone who is known to have no tolerance for anything. Heh. Wrong-o. The NyQuil attempted to pin my head to the pillow. The cough attempted to keep me awake. And they fought for an hour and a half straight. Uhhhhhh. A pox upon thee, NyQuil.

On the up side, David came down and brought me cherry cough drops yesterday in the midday, so that was quite, quite helpful. And now I smell of cherries much of the time, or at least of fake cherries.

Mmmm, fake cherries.

I read The Telling, and I could definitely see why Mary Anne liked it. I liked it, too, which is not the same thing. Then I started Continent of Lies by James Morrow. One of his early ones. I also have Wine of Violence, I think, something like that, another early Morrow. They were cheap. I figured, why not? Well. Sometimes we learn that even cool people improve.

Salon has an article that I find just hysterical: good Lord, who knew that the people in Berkeley were still really that radical? Let's see a show of hands: who knew? You, you, you...and you...and me...yep, that's pretty much everybody who had ever thought about setting foot in Berkeley. Who knew? Who didn't know? People don't move to Berkeley to join the Young Republicans' Club. This is like being surprised that there are many people in Mexico City, or that they speak such good Spanish there, even the little kids. Sigh.

Yesterday's Fox Trot would not have amused me so much if I hadn't been known to talk trash in a math context myself. We usually left each other's Mommas out of it, however.

Ahh, the days of my misspent youth. Some people had misspent youths drinking or sneaking joints behind the school. I talked trash with David Cintani at math contests.

One can't overachieve at everything.