It is Monday, and I am at the University killing time. I considered skipping work today and taking a day trip to Montserrat but decided against. It is a bit cloudy out anyway, and I wold´ve felt guilty, though I am not sure why.
I have been sick for the last week and it has been a real bummer. This has been the worst virus I have had in a long time and I can´t seem to shake it. I feel OK, but I hack all through the night and feel weird and congested during the day. I have been to the hospital, the doctor, the 24 hour pharmacy, looking for something–anything—to provide relief. It seems that this dman thing is simply something that I just have to wait out. My room looks like a hospital ward, with throat sprays, aspirin, eye drops, and pills scattered about.
In three more days, E. arrives, my Florence Nightengale. She will be wearing sterile white pantyhose and carrying a medicsl kit. I will fall prostrate before her in the airport so she can probe my abdomen and take my temperature.
I managed to do some cultural stuff this weekend–visiting the modern art museum, the Sagrada Familia and exploring several Gothic catherdrals. I also hung out at the beach yesterday. There was barely enough room for my little towel. I followed Spanish custom and sunbathed topless.