In the interest of not leaving invective at the top of this screen, I'd better post something else.

I still have my cold, and no voice. I've taken to carrying a pad of paper around and write notes to Jazz. It limits my ability to be funny, because the timing is off when I hoarsely comment something, he says, "What?", and then I write it down for him. I think this is the longest I've been without the ability to talk. The odd thing is that I don't feel any sicker than if I was having a small level reaction. So I'm perfectly capable of functioning normally for me. I just have no voice and cough a bit deeper.

My sleep is still all fucked up though. Last night, I woke myself from a nightmare. I had gone back to my college, and it had gone steampunk of all things (I love the asthetic of steampunk, but I know how terribly impractical it all is). So I was touring the changes made, and then I started noticing all of the dead bodies. No blood, just heads tucked into arms after being removed. Stacks and stacks of dead bodies. And I had the horror creeping up on me that this would be me joining them at the end of my tour. I guess that's a nice summary of my feelings about Wells these days. I don't think any of their changes have been practical, and I'll go back for a tour over my dead body. And that really depresses me, but I have other things to obsess over more.  ¶ 9:28 AM