My anti-emetics kicked in yesterday afternoon, and today I spent a glorious day not retching or feeling like the world was spinning out of control. I don't understand why I don't appreciate from day-to-day how wonderful it is just to feel well. Except, I do and I suppose that you do too. You only know what happiness is when it's forcibly ripped from your hands as you scream in protest. Until that moment it's just you bumbling around complaining about things that don't really matter because it's quite a good feeling to have something to complain about and it's only by having first-world problems that we can compare them to third-world problems and let them win. Good on them. It's great the majority world can win at something. Having really, really awful problems. That, and ebola.
I'm still harbour hope that the current ebola outbreak is going to spin into a full-scale apocalyptic nightmare. Today twelve hundred, tomorrow seven billion. Hmmmmm. That sounds like the plot of an excellent novel. I could call it something like, oh I don't know, Survivors. Or maybe, The Last of Us. I'll think on that a little tonight instead of writing the plot points that I should be writing. That'll be a nice change.