"Oh, good, you're not dead," said my co-worker. "There were no visible signs of breathing." I had taken a pain pill, had a bad reaction, thrown up into a wastebasket, and gone to the lounge to clear my head. I'd fallen asleep on the couch. Three and a half hours later, I was stll out. I woke up, had lunch, still felt shaky, and started for home. Now I'm simply stuck in traffic on the bus. It's a Spare the Air day, all the Muni and AC Transit buses are free, but about 20,000 drivers haven't gotten it. No thanks to THEM that I'm stll breathing.
Quilter, knitter, folk musician/singer, cat owner, parents are transplanted midwesterners from farm families, three siblings (one near Seattle, two near LA), many nieces and nephews, bad gardener, chronic battles with depression and clutter, underpaid nonprofit employee, girl geek with Macs, PCs, and Palm PDAs (used to be part of TeamB), former editor and art director for sf/fantasy magazines, founded an undercapitalized laptop magazine in the 80s, struggling homeowner. Email me: are eee aitch at ess eff eff dot enn eee tee.