Transplanted Life
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Ugh, more snow
The walking to and from the train station every day finally seems to be catching up with me. I'm not sneezing or coughing or anything that makes people run away because, ew, she's sick, but I haven't felt so hot the last couple of days. Trouble sleeping, feeling dried out when I wake up, and it feels like there's something in my throat that I have to get past every time I swallow. And the news was talking about eight inches being dumped on us tonight. And we were just starting to get a good look at the sidewalks earlier this week! I know, it's New England and February, but enough's enough.

Still, nothing you can do but try and get through the day. On the guy/girl watch, Maureen tells me that women are less squeamish about dealing with illness, but I don't know how much that's true in general or about me in particular. I remember always hating taking sick days and avoiding it, but I may not have just sucked it up and gone about my business as much as I do now. The strange and scary fact is that I'm having a little trouble remembering what I/Martin was like two years ago; it's too far back for any feelings to be truly immediate and yet also too recent for me to have any kind of perspective on it.

Not much else going on. I haven't spoken to Kate since the 'thon, although I've left a couple of messages. We're supposed to do some wedding-related thing with Jen this weekend, so I guess I'll see her then.

I have heard from Carter, or Alan, or whatever and whoever he is now. He wants to talk, and apologize, and all that. I probably should say no, but I sort of get the feeling that he's not a problem that will go away by ignoring it. There was something confused and hurt in his voice, and that's a killer for me - it is, after all a voice I still think of as mine, and the mind behind it... Well, I've still got feelings for that. Always will, I suppose. And I know this past year or so has been a killer for him - being ripped from your body, imprisoned, probably raped, watching the body you were born in die... It's gotta mess you up.

Of course, that messed-up-ness is why I'm not exactly comfortable spending time alone with him. I'll probably ask a guy to come along to keep an eye on him, which totally stinks because I should't need to. But better safe than sorry, right?

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