It's 4 a.m. Do you know where I am?

I'm sitting at my computer instead of lying in bed, asleep. My sleep schedule is all shot to hell. Admittedly, it's never been terribly regular, and I accuse my father of being a bad role model in that regard. All through my childhood, my father worked irregular hours. He was manager (and salesman, and chief engineer, and ultimately owner) of the radio station he worked for/owned. And some of his work (weekly transmitter frequency checks that had to be done in the middle of the night, for one) required odd hours. Other work--like sales--had to be done during regular business hours. So, unsurprisingly, he always had a variable schedule.

So I come by my nightowl tendencies honestly. But in this case, it's because I've spent the last forty-eight hours in bed. I've been working the job hunting gig with a vengeance lately, scoring a number of interviews over the last couple of weeks--and doing a lot of cold-calling and resume dropping (or application collecting) as well. I had an interview for a seasonal retail job at Old Navy Monday afternoon. It was group interview, and it was obvious to me almost immediately that I was not what they were looking for. No real surprise--to me OR to my lovely wife--but I went anyhow. Just another in a long time of handshaking face-to-face encounters with the public.

Then I drove home. And the sun, low on the horizon at this time of year, was like daggers in my eyes (and I'm light sensitive at the best of times). So I gobbled some Tylenol and thought nothing more about it. Until later than evening, when the headache came back, and I felt the slightest tickle of a sore throat. I took more painkillers and hoped desperately that I wasn't getting sick--I have a writing workshop at the coast coming up this week (later today, as I write this). But no such luck.

By bedtime I had a pounding sinus headache, my throat was closing up, and I began to shiver. I climbed into bed feeling sick as a dog, and I've spent most of the last two days there. I spent a lot of my time sleeping, and when I wasn't sleeping I was mostly dozing or lying there in a stupor watching the science channel. Fortunately, the virus (or whatever) seems to be as short-lived as it was sudden. My throat's still a tiny bit sore, but my other symptoms are mostly gone. I'm good to go for tomorrow's start of my four-day workshop, thank god. I'd have been really pissed off I'd had to cancel.

But that does mean that after two days in bed, I'm not at all sleepy despite needing to get up, pack, and make the trip tomorrow--to say nothing beginning the workshop tomorrow evening. Still, I'll manage.

Of course, my wife had her own drama this week, and I was too sick to give her the emotional support she wanted and needed. Which sucks. And we'll be apart for the next four days. On the other hand, she'll have the whole bed to herself for that time, with no cover-stealing husband to contend with.

And I did get a job. Not at Old Navy (thank god). No, I'll be doing part-time data entry work. More money, regular hours, and no dealing with the public, and with time left over to work on building my publishing empire. It's not ideal--it's in Beaverton, rather than across the street--but I can live with a commute if I have to. Having more money coming in will ease a lot of tensions in our household.

And speaking tension, I know my lovely wife posted in her own journal that she'd choked on some food this weekend. She couldn't breathe (or not enough to matter) and I gave her the Heimlich maneuver. And saved her life. Which scares the hell out of me. Not that she could have died--as she said to me when I was very lovey-dovey to her over the next couple of days--she could get hit by a bus ANY day and die. Which is true. But that wouldn't be a situation in which I was in a position to save her and might have failed. That's what really scared me; that I could have failed to save her. Losing her would be awful enough, but to do so through some failing of my own would be even worse.

So I guess we can write off "surgeon" as a potential field of employment for me. Some people may thrive on that kind of thing--I'm looking at you, Rory--but that's more excitement than I really want in my life.