I should NOT have said that about everyone being done with the flu. Sure enough, Friday night, It Got Me. I don’t know what is so peculiarly horrible about an upset stomach, but it turned me into a snivelling wreck. My nine-year-old got up in the middle of the night with a nightmare and found me sitting on the bathroom floor moaning. He said, “I think God must have arranged for you to be up so that you can comfort me.” (Daniel and I may need to discuss a theology of suffering at some point.)
And, of course, the manuscript did NOT go off in the mail. Fortunately, the flu was nasty and brutish but short, so by Saturday afternoon I was sitting up in bed, drinking seltzer water and revising. I had to put the manuscript in my carry-on after all and haul it up to New York on the plane Sunday afternoon. Which meant I had to leave the shoes behind. However, I’m at peace with this, because I’ve figured out that now I have to go buy a new pair. Darn.
I’m in New York now, and will post a few pictures shortly. In the meantime, here’s my revised outline for Part V of the manuscript, which got so complicated that I had to tape it up on the back of my office door:
At least the Chicken Shed Office is progressing nicely forward.