Camille. As in the last act of.

The drainage did not just go away. But more on that in a bit.

We got an incredible amount of stuff done on the house done, last Saturday. Carpet ripped up from the doorway along the just-painted wall to the bathroom door, and down the middle of the room to the opposite wall. Junk vinyl tile laid down on the newly freed concrete. And vinyl plank flooring extended through the doorway to where the closet begins, and into the room far enough that we could have set up the new bed frame on it if we hadn't been so tired that we were afraid of injuring ourselves. That new bed frame is heavy.

Dragged myself to church on Sunday. About the only bits that didn't ache were my tonsils, which have been gone since I was three, and my gall bladder, which went bye-bye in 2001. Skipped choir practice in favor of a nap. Home teacher and another good brother gave me a blessing. We had raised a lot of dust, pulling up the carpet. That didn't make me feel any better, so I took the first steps in getting well by calling in the priesthood.

Monday was a good day at work. Coughed a little but sailed through my work. Came home and emptied out the black bookcase, moved it to the newly painted wall so we may yank the carpet there and in the closet this weekend, and refilled the bookcase. Yesterday I was coughing more. I could tell that the yuck was trying to dig through to China by way of my lungs, so I called my doctor to see if they could fit me in. She was booked all day but scheduled to work the night clinic, so I took off early, picked up my remade glasses (which seem to be, finally, correct), then Fourthborn, who accompanied me to the night clinic with the plan that we'd go to Knit Night from there.

I was seen pretty quickly at the clinic, but not by my doctor, and I was able to pick up two prescriptions at a nearby pharmacy instead of at the one around the corner from my home. By that time it was a quarter to eight, so we blew off Knit Night (I did post a message that we wouldn't be there, after all), and I took Fourthborn home.

Have just taken my second dose of both medicines. The cough medicine is a little gel cap with an advisory not to drive or operate machinery. I've called in sick (my voice is convincing testimony of that) and am planning to sleep as the impulse strikes and will hope to be back at work tomorrow, as I'm off on Friday for Grandparents Day at the bitties' school.

I've eaten an English muffin with some Wholly Guacamole. Time to take my vitamins, maybe grab an apple, and settle in with one of my library books. I'm currently reading The Medici Effect and pondering how my life has been lived largely at what he calls the Intersection. Twyla Tharp's book on creativity is next on the list, and the library has notified me that the autobiography of James Michener is waiting for me. I've added the latest dozen Prismacolors to my inventory list on Evernote. If I get really ambitious, I may attempt to shake hands with my EQ7 program and begin entering the last series' finished quilt blocks preparatory to redesigning the sashing strips.

Not holding my breath on that one. (Because that would make me cough.) I crack myself up.

In the time required to more or less proofread this, the sleepiness has kicked in from my cough medicine. So it's likely to be vitamins and a very light snack, then back to bed.