Confined quarters with a bunch of snotty, disgusting, uninsured, unhealthy cretins meant I was probably going to get sick at some point. And then the campers came, and they weren't any better... hence, the flu.

I hurt so much I couldn't stop rubbing my eyes. I felt like someone had torn out my tear ducts with claws made of sandpaper. Enough phlegm has escaped my body in the last 72 hours to create a full-sized replica of the Swamp Thing.

But I feel better now.

Had a wonderful dream last night that FOX called me and wanted me out in Malibu (which is not where their studios are, mind you) ASAP. I was deliriously happy, heart so full it was going to break out of my chest with joy happy -- I'm not sure I've ever been that happy.

And then I opened my eyes, and... oh. Not yet. Not in life. Not yet.

Watched the first half of Goodbye, Lenin! last night, while waiting for the Nyquil knockoff to kick in. Didn't. So went to sleep anyway.

Starting to plan my cross-country trip to LA. Hoping to stop in Vegas and by the Grand Canyon on the way. Maybe through Boulder too...