Thursday, 16 January 2003 | Recovery

I felt a little bit restless today, which I attributed to feeling better, despite the beast in my chest who seems to be hanging out a while longer. He reaches a little wavy ticklish arm up through my neck and dusts the back of my throat, creating a roar of dry coughs that fails to deter him. Shallow breaths are better, but only for so long; by the time I get to the subway stop just before mine, my eyes are watering and I'm desperate to cough, and I inadvertently give in, sucking up some unwanted attention and putting fear in any hypochondriacs on the train with me.

But I do feel unusually alive, like I want to make up for last few days I stumbled through. It's amazing how sickness makes itself so obvious; I was told a few times today that I no longer looked so pale and that I sounded better on the phone. I didn't feel like going straight home after work, so I wandered through a few record stores and bought the Interpol CD, which turned out to be a good idea.

Nobody even mentions the snow anymore. I heard it was snowing in North Carolina from two different people, hours before I realized it had been snowing here all along as well.