Wednesday morning in Boston, and matters have gone to bad to worse.

I am feeling much better this morning, though I still have a touch of whatever it was. I’m running at maybe 85% of my old self.

Unfortunately, Parris woke up with a full-blown case of whatever the hell I had. (Guess that proves it was indeed a stomach virus of some sort, and not food poisoning). She’s where I was back on Monday morning, which isn’t good. We’re not going to be able to travel.

We’re still trying to figure out what this does to our New York plans. Maybe some of them can be salvaged, but…

Boskone should never have have left the Sheraton. The new con hotel appears to be the Hotel California — we can check out any time we want, but we can never leave.

Current Mood: null