I didn't sleep at all last night. I was actually tired after like 13000 steps of dancing around, but the following happened: (a) Camelot songs are going through my brain too much. Much as I like the joust song, it is Not Restful to have trampling through one's brain at 1 a.m. (b) Middle of the night bathroom time, 'nuff said.

Anyway, by the time I had to go to work, I felt rather roadkill, did not want to get out of bed, and called in sick. I have spent the day in and out of bed, even though I still haven't lost consciousness, sigh. It was nice to do a mental health day, I have to say. I feel somewhat better at least, or at least I'm not having total "did I get covid" freakouts, so there's that.

I did read Seanan McGuire's Twitter and she was talking about not having the brain space to do anything hard but she might have the brain space to say, open up a bag of dice. I feel about the same today. I should be doing something but am just not going there. I did, however, write a brief but scathing review of the McKinley biography I read yesterday, which gets one star for being both excruciatingly dull (though I admit McKinley and his times probably don't provide much in the way of scintillating material) AND pretty much omitting his entire assassination, the fuck? I got "Assassination Vacation" (a book I'd read at the library during my Sarah Vowell phase) the other day in a little free library, read the McKinley section again, and man, she did a much better job of making both the man interesting AND actually covering his assassination. That's about the brain space I had, was to purge my grumbling on this out of my brain.

I did, however, have a rough therapy session (on the phone) in which she said she wants to cut her clients due to her health issues and I'm pretty likely to be cut from the list because essentially, I'm not doing anything or want to be doing anything really, which is entirely true and she would be in the right to cut me. She should, really. I don't know where it's going to go.

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