The Dungeons

There were so many other things that I could have done this weekend that did not involve either sleeping or staring listlessly at the fire. Then again, I shouldn't have needed the fire going in mid-June regardless. I've thoroughly taken advantage of Bill's concern for my well being after a token protest that if he stayed, I'd get him sick too, which he ignored and instead kissed my forehead and put me to bed. Sadly, even sick, it was a better weekend then last which was spent apart, fighting. I stayed in London and he stayed in Scotland and it was as miserable in its own way.

( I sincerely hope that this... whatever it is goes away sooner than later. )

After all, I have to start from scratch when it comes to finding a band. The lead singer of the one that I had booked came down with spattergoit and will be out of commission, not to mention heavily contagious for quite a while. And the one that I managed to get into contact with today adamantly refuse to play any Celestina Warbeck songs because it will cause them to break out in hives or some such nonsense.

And now I am tired and it isn't even all that late. I think I will have another cup of ginger tea and ask if Bill has anymore stories up his sleeves.