fantastic.

I didn’t get to see the concert last night. It was sold out. I got home relatively early (we even joked about it when we all went our separate ways, how it was pretty early to be so exhausted), and went to sleep. I have tickets for the opera for today. Robert Wilson’s Madame Butterfly. I’ve been saying I’m the only person who would want to see this, being a fan of both Wilson’s minimalist avant-garde whatever-it-is-he-does, and Madame Butterfly. Stee’s never seen an opera before. He keeps saying he’s going to bring a flask. I’d complain, but I was planning on bringing my notebook and a pen so I could write down pitch ideas. But I really wanted to go because it’s my dad’s birthday today, and I want to listen to Puccini in the dark and be sad for a few hours.

But.

When I woke up this morning, stee said, “I don’t think you’re okay.”

He meant the sound of my breathing, my lungs, this cough I’ve had for a couple of days that has now grown into a real cold that I can’t keep denying. “I thought the neighbor’s porch door was swinging,” he said, “and that’s what woke me up. But it’s you.”

We’re currently calling people, trying to give away these tickets. While I don’t feel too weak to go to the opera, I don’t want to be that douche coughing through the whole thing.

I can’t remember the last time I spent the day in bed, sick. I keep thinking of the things I have to do, like return a video or buy something I need for my office this week. See, I even went and grabbed my computer to write about how I don’t get to go to the opera because I’m already bored with sitting in my bed with a book. If I wasn’t sick, I’d be doing exactly this right now, because this is exactly what I do on Sunday mornings if I can — stay in bed with a book for a couple of hours. But the added layer of coughing and blowing my nose every thirty seconds makes me feel weak, and I don’t like feeling weak.

stee is having a hard time passing off our tickets. He just walked in with toast and fruit and tea for me. “Are you writing an entry?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t. Please, just relax.”

So, I’m gonna go do that.