Doomed

This afternoon I woke with a sore throat which has subsequently been joined by other symptoms indicating a progressing viral infection of the nose-throat-lung sort. If it succeeds in taking root, it will be my first failure to expel such an infection in at least seven years–in fact, I can't remember for sure the last time I had to go through the full course of such an illness, but I know it was before Sluggo came to stay with me. This particular infection feels quite powerful, though I suppose it's possible that its effect is being aggravated by the spring pollen. I should know by tomorrow whether I'm going to have to go through an actual cold/flu/whatever. Despite my slightly feverish state and the coolness of the evening air, I could not resist walking around the back yard a few times as dusk fell. Now that the evenings are long again, these evening walks have become my favorite part of the day. Most of the time taking a brief walk doesn't court pneumonia, of course, so if my recent jaunt ultimately brings me to death's door, I might thereafter (assuming I survive) feel less enthused about this particular recreation.

Other than the anxiety provoked by the looming threat of terminal illness, the day was pleasant enough. Some of yesterday's rain found its way back into the air as the bright sunlight coaxed it from the damp ground, and on their way to join the vast cloud billows floating above, the vaporous molecules trailed the scents of the soil or grass or tiny fungi they had recently vacated, as well as the scent of distant rivers and seas. That water's been around. Tomorrow there'll be more water arriving from distant parts, and more will be following on Friday. If I am not yet delirious from raging fever, I intend to enjoy it. If I am delirious, I might imagine I'm Sadie Thompson, in which case I'll drink to excess and won't care that I'm dying.

Oh, outside the window a yellow bowl of moon heaped with earthshine! I must go out and look, pneumonia or not!