So I’ve been sick. My body has been ravaged by some virus, which has oddly left my head well enough alone.

It started with extreme heartburn and a total lack of endurance for any physical activity. On Monday it further manifested in pain in my upper left arm. On Tuesday the pain had spread to both arms, upper and lower; Wednesday brought the pain to my fingers.

I usually have some sort of pseudo-arthritis in my right index finger, as well as something similar (gout? But I’m not that old!) in my right big toe. [That one’s made dancing a bit more challenging than it used to be.] Having that sort of pain in every bloody finger was a vision of a future I don’t ever want to see.

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As I mentioned at the outset, though, my mind has been unaffected by this. Good thing, too: this week has seen a database upgrade (not easy when you’ve never done one before), bizarre crashing related to the upgrade (tomorrow’s fun puzzle), and the looming threat of negotiations to see if I’ll ever be reasonably compensated for the good I’ve done at work.

I hate the traditional idea of negotiation. I much prefer walking in with a fair deal, and walking out with a fair deal—there’s much less stress (and more mutual respect) that way. But, no: you gotta low-ball ’em at first, just in case you can pull off highway robbery. Your gain is directly tied to their loss, and—hey!—their loss doesn’t hurt you at all.

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In more-pressing news, these drunk guys and girls have been stomping the fuck out of the hallway outside my apartment for the last hour. Holy heck. I guess they’ve decided that they can only drink out front, and they can only listen to loud music while in the apartment—and they’ll be damned if they don’t experience both alcohol poisoning and ear damage before the night is through.

To those people I can only say: Godspeed on that alcohol poisoning thing.

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Hold up. Judging by the noise, one guy just puked off the side of his porch. One down, lots more to go.

Thank goodness I live on the top floor.