I have this artist friend in Greenwich Village down in New York City, has some of her work on display at a gallery down there. The gallery owner rang her up yesterday, with the news that someone had purchased no less than ten of her paintings.

When she asked the owner what made the man buy so many of her works, the owner said the man was curious to know if her work would be worth anything in years to come. It seems that the gallery owner had responded that her art would appreciate in value long after she was dead. Without hesitation, the man snatched up her work, paying cash for them.

"That's great news," I told her, "you must be well chuffed". "Well, yes and no," she replied. "How's that?" I asked. "The man who bought the paintings was my doctor."

An overcast morning here. Feeling weak and shaky again today. Not much I can do about that, I suppose. Probably need to eat, but I don't feel much like eating. Suppose it'll bacon and eggs, as the high humidity has made honey-nut shredded wheat all clump together, for some reason. Couldn't afford juice this week, and our tap water here literally tastes like it was filtered through dirt, so I'll have to have diet Pepsi with breakfast, as I have to conserve the milk and make it last awhile.

So, not into work until noon this week. At least I'm not stuck on night shift. I didn't used to care what hours or shifts I worked, or how long the work day was, or even if I had to work 6 or 7 days a week, as long as I at least had a job and enough funds for my food, shelter and utility bills. But, since becoming ill, it's getting harder and harder to work even 4 hours a day, without feeling completely knackered. I'm literally growing old before my time.

I need to get out more, to feel alive again, to be part of the world again...just don't have the energy--or the funds, most of the time. Getting those twenty collections notices in the post this weekend, from the federal govt.'s education department...that really took the wind out of my sails...then that stupid Dr Who stunt Davies and Tennant pulled...not a good weekend for me, at all.

Sometimes it's ironic to me--here I live in a quiet little city in the foothills of the southeastern Adirondack mountains, 178 miles from New York City, sandwiched between two major resort towns--tons and tons of amusements and attractions and things to do, basically right on my doorstep...and I do nothing. I am like a prisoner, forced to look between her bars and watch the world going on with its business while I stand there with empty hand, helpless and powerless to change anything.

Well, that was a cheery post, wasn't it?

Anyway, have to eat before I pass out, I suppose. I barely did a thing this weekend--which I hate. I miss being active, very sorely. Yet, I feel like I've been put through the wringer. When will this all end? Wish I had some mates to hang with, to pull me out of my funk.