A thermometer for me; a needle and syringe for my horse. Because it's not enough that I'm sick, but Markus had to have a flare-up of whatever strange infection caused his right hind leg to swell to twice its normal size last summer. The vet doesn't think it's lymphangitis; I don't know what to think at this point. Actually, I think it's really freaking annoying that I feel like crap while he feels like crap and needs to be babied. And it sucks even worse when the weather throws patchy storms at us so there's that to contend with too.
After my busy week last week, I was so ready to dive back into writing, but, as usual, trying to make plans results in a series of "are you kidding me?" events. Every time I get a little chunk of change in my pocket, something rears its ugly head. And when I'm sick, those little setbacks feel huge and insurmountable and I become emotional for no reason. It's the fever - it turns my brain to mush. I know I shouldn't be complaining. I shouldn't. After watching the devastation in Oklahoma, I feel like a tool even thinking complain-y thoughts. So I'll stow them away. Tomorrow is another day.