I'll be back in mid-week, but of course, no e-mail or commentary until then. I'm not jittery. No, not at all. Ignore my spastic leg jiggling. James claims that I am giddy (for me) which he explains as a kind of cheerful contempt. He is also giddy, which means the non sequitors and truly bizarre metaphors are flowing more rapidly than usual, and I caught him singing the Star Trek fight music to our cat (inserting "Loki no no no Lokino Lokino...!" in place of the more familiar "Da dah da dahn da da") which is a telltale sign of excitement, and since the cat answers happily to anything said in the right tone of voice, including "Lardbutt" and "Fatness" there was probably no harm done.
This is the first time I've flown since y'know, terrorism, nastiness, all that, but I'm not particularly worried--when faith in one's fellow man fails, one can always take comfort in statistics. Also, I'll leave the steel-toed boots at home.
I had a vivid dream t'other night that I was bitten by a rattlesnake. Whereupon I called 911, told them where I was and that I needed antivenin, elevated my bitten hand, and sat around and waited, which I think is about what you're supposed to do. I could actually feel the doctor injecting something into my fingers ("Will this hurt?" "A great deal, yes.") but when I woke up I discovered I'd been laying on my arm and it was dead asleep and pins-and-needling, which probably explains it all without need for prophecy or Freud.