I’m on the living room couch, Sunday afternoon, winter light streaming through the windows. The light, screened through gauzy white curtains, shines onto the healthy terrarium plants. Cleo is sleeping on a pillow next to the radiator. Mars is asleep on the arm of the couch. Shadow is next me. Maybe I’ll take a picture. T is on the computer playing a game based on the civil war. S is upstairs on Wii Madden. M and N are at the doctor’s. I’m listening to David Sylvian’s “Secrets of the Beehive.” I haven’t listened to this album in twenty years but some of it holds up well.

So I’ve been sick since my second day in Orlando. God knows how I traveled home. I guess the Dayquil helped. However, I was on the phone with a student on the way home from the airport and I startled myself with the realization that I was nearing home when I thought I was still near downtown Milwaukee. After I arrived home I distributed the candy presents, hung out for a while, and fell asleep. Yesterday I was still useless. What did I do? I slept during the day, off and on, read Murakami, cleaned the house, and sat on the couch. This morning I felt a bit better. The temps are well below zero but I needed to get out of the house. T and I drove to Target. He picked out another cheap computer game and I snagged Yatzee and some chocolate for M’s Valentine’s Day present. When we drove near the lake a strong wind blew the powder across the road; although we could hardly see I liked the effect. Later I started the week’s laundry, answered a few email, and turned on Eno’s “Music for Airports”, followed by the Sylvian and now Air’s “Pocket Symphony.” I don’t want to turn on the television. I’ve had enough brash noise for a while. Tomorrow I’d like to hit work with some energy. I’m tired, now, just writing in my journal. More later. Good night.