This bloody headache is driving Us mad... Maybe it's the inevitable compound of Our house arrest and the sudden task of disinfecting the dogs of their damn ticks. The head, which is an indispensable aide to the task of writing, throbs most intolerably, and instead of being able to honor engagements and also to write at least two chapters by which We could've advanced Our destiny, I am now restrained by physical weakness.
We should wish for the cough to cease, as it does not help in the jerking of Our head every time the necessity to expel the undesirables comes, but We have chosen to refrain from taking medicine for two reasons: We have yet to satisfy Our newly-discovered ability to reach unreachable notes, and more importantly, We do not deem Ourself as worthy of taking expense in this family's medical resources. Until We have found an occupation and the money starts flowing in, We should be parsimonious as to every need which occurs.
Damn brain, We're now at a loss for words. We shall try to sleep now; but it would be most helpful if our great collaborator Mlle. L.M. come around for at least a short chat. At least We won't be dreaming of incessant running again, but have Our dreams filled with Plato's forms. Otherwise, ta ta!
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