Wind up your cameras

I haven't done much these last few days. I found myself in the unique position of being sick in an empty house. Yesterday was my most active day. I awoke feeling sluggish - my sleep had been intermittent and restless - and it took me half the day to shake free of the cobwebs. Around mid afternoon, after a nap, I felt well enough to practice yoga. It was a good session. I ate dinner shortly thereafter and then decided to walk over to Spy Pond and read by the shore. I needed to get out of the house.

I'm glad I went. I sat on the grass and read from A Feast For Crows. Occasionally, I'd find myself surrounded by a flock of Canada geese as they fed on the grass. Around eight, I got up to leave just as a guy on a bike came barreling down the hill beside me. He flipped over the handle bars and remained motionless on the ground, limbs akimbo. Having lived in the city for years now, I've become pretty adept at sorting out who's injured and who's drunk or high in situations like this. I determined fairly quickly that this guy was drunk or high. He didn't look hurt, he just looked like he needed to pass out. As I walked away, I saw him roll on side and fall quickly asleep. A few minutes later, the visual of him flying over the handlebars made me chuckle. I'm sorry, but it did. In my defense, it did look awfully funny, especially when he came barreling down the hill hollering gibberish. Seriously, if I had filmed it and showed it to you, you would have laughed.

When I arrived home, I felt like shit. Maybe, I thought, I over-extended myself with the yoga and the long walk. I retired to my room, watched Jimmy Stewart in the wonderful Harvey, watched some Bill Hicks stand up, and then read. I wondered when I was going to start feeling better. It was a rough night.

Today I feel slightly better, but I'll reserve my optimism until I am completely hale. I've learned my lesson.