This morning: the hummingbird (which has become a regular), two blue jays and a male cardinal, who didn’t quite get the feeder: he sat on the top.

Day four of laying around sleeping and being sick. The RLA comes in and tells me that I simply must update my operating system to Leopard, because he just did and it’s the shit, man. I say, no, I don’t wanna. I’m fine. My laptop is fine. No, he insists, it takes a long time and you can do it while you are napping. It’s no big deal. Maybe because of my weakened state, I let him convince me. It took hours. I napped. And then, when it was all over, my laptop was dead. It wouldn’t boot. It just sat there, spinning its little gears. For a really long time. And then I had to crash it out. Several times. And so, I put on clothes for the first time since Saturday, and dragged my sorry ass over to the Apple store. This was not without incident, as the electric yellow Smartcar seems to be invisible, even when I am directly in front of someone’s headlights. Miz Shoes is also invisible when crossing a brightly lit crosswalk, at least to the driver of the Cadillac SUV who both made eye contact with me and tried to run me over. Once in (also not without incident, as I was complaining at the RLA via my cell phone, laptop in the other hand, large book under one arm and purse over the other shoulder. I came face to face with the closed door and a man standing in front of it. He did not acknowledge me, and did not open the door. I juggled.) In short, by the time I made it to the Genius Bar, I was breathing fire and not willing to take no for the answer to the question, “Can you look at/fix this?”

Nevertheless, the very nice ten-year-old boy behind the counter could not fix this, and I left with a still inoperable machine. The good news, the hard drive was fine, and all data still there. The bad news, I’d probably have to back everything up and wipe the hard drive in order to reinstall the OS.

So. Back home by nine, and back into the flannel pyjamas. At 9:15 there was an enormous grinding, crunching and shattering of glass outside my bedroom window. A lost double-decker flat bed delivery truck had gotten lost in my cul-de-sac, and made its way out of same by driving through my fence. Eight feet of fence. And we’d moved it six feet back from the curb the last time a lost truck flattened the same. This truck wins the clueless prize, because the driver also went over a chunk of coral rock about three feet long and two feet thick, and BROKE IT, and still claimed that he thought he’d only knocked some branches off the tree.

The RLA went after the flatbed (which of course did not stop), and I called the police. The Very Nice Officer reminded me that he’d come here the last time this happened. The RLA found the truck, still sporting its crown of black olive branches in the parking lot at Home Despot. Insurance information was given. Ditto apologies. Then the VNO went to follow up with the driver. Today we’ve had lots of calls from the driver, the owner of the trucking company and their insurance agent.

When I went out to take pictures of the damage, I discovered that my old pocket digital is wasted. There’s really cool and jiggy distortion in the finder, but unfortunately that doesn’t translate to the digital image. Those are just washed out and mostly blank. Bummer. A good damaged digital is worth its weight in gold.

That was yesterday. Today, I have spent since eight this morning backing up this machine and reinstalling the system. As it turns out, I didn’t have to wipe the drive. Now I just have to remove all of my backup files from the RLA’s computer and Bob’s your uncle.

Tomorrow, I go back to work.

I have coughed so much and so hard that my ribs hurt and my abs feel like I’ve done a thousand crunches. The hummingbird is now a regular at the feeder. The squirrels seem to have put my backyard into the “newly opened” section of the squirrel Zagat, but the birds just aren’t coming around. I can hear them. All sorts of tweeting and chirping comes from the palms and the oaks. I’ve tried to entice them by putting a platter under the feeder with mixed seeds and peanuts. I figure blue jays can always spot a peanut, and well, once the blue jays come, there goes the neighborhood. Since that’s my aim, peanuts on the ground is my game plan. I’ll report later.

In the meantime, a whimpered plea to amuse me resulted in this:

I am amused. And about to go back to sleep.

Actually, it was the first hummingbird to discover the nectar feeder. And the squirrels have completely hogged the suet feeder. And something small and feathered and brown came and splashed in the bird bath. Sweet. And then I coughed up a lung, and scared them all away, and the RLA dragged my sorry ass back to bed, and not in the fun way.

After the RLA threatened to stop talking to me if I didn’t see a doctor, I saw a doctor this afternoon. What a shock: it’s either my annual bronchitis or walking pneumonia. He didn’t feel like dicking around with x-rays, so I’m on some antibiotic that will cure either condition. Needless to say, I am back on my back in bed. There’s a fucking groove here, I swear. Bah.

I’m up. The chest-cold, hacking, productive cough has returned. I hate this. I’m over this. I refuse to go to a doctor, however, and will continue to exert mind over matter, the Secret, quantum mechanics in the direction of my poor widdle lungs and heal myself. Or not.

Yesterday’s mail brought two pounds of Finn wool, processed and un-dyed. I’ve decided that the RLA and I shall become the Next Big Thing among indie dyers. The RLA is unimpressed. He still wants to be the Next Big Thing among quilters. I’m willing to try. But first I have to dig down to the strata in my studio which contains the sewing machine. There seems to be an accretion of wool between me and the Bernina.

Maybe over the weekend, I can dig down. If I’m not in bed, coughing up lung. It remains to be seen.

I was in bed by seven tonight. And up again at eleven. I’ve had a nice hot toddy, and maybe I can sleep. Maybe. This is getting so fucking old.