Day off (line)

Julia caught a 24-hour bug that hit her on Saturday night. I figured my iffy stomach was a result of cleaning up after her (cleaning up my bed, I might add) but that turned out not to be the case.

Neither one of us actually felt that bad by Sunday morning, but I was so tired I actually turned off the computer after breakfast (turning it on is pretty much reflex at this point) and never even went near it for the rest of the day.

Now that's tired.

I spent the whole day napping and reading a book of essays by women who had experienced disasters of one kind or another while traveling abroad.

Why would I read such a book at this particular point in time? I don't know, exactly, except that it was given to me recently and was on the top of the pile when I needed a book. It didn't, in point of fact, make me feel any different about the upcoming trip, but still. What was I thinking?