"I'm not dead yet... I feel happy..."

We are now a house of the Plague, although it doesn't seem to have hit me as hard as it hit Matt. I was feeling queasy yesterday, but so far no vomitous offerings have been made at the porcelain altar.

We had to cancel the Lughnassadh event yesterday since three of us were unwell. I just did a small, quiet, personal thing to mark the holiday.

Otherwise, I'm still slogging slowly through Susannah Moodie and her Freaky Neighbours, also known as Roughing it in the Bush. I'm only one-third through it. It has all the hallmarks of early Canadian literature: violence, death, snowstorms, dark forests, suicide, and abused children, and yet it still manages to be boring.