I'm lying in bed with a fever, which is saying something, because I usually have a slightly lower than average body temperature to begin with, and when I get a fever, it is usually of the colder, not the hotter, variety. That's right, I get colder. I only found this out in my late twenties, so until then I just thought I was extra crazy on days when the earth felt shifty and everyone was sporting full-body halos. Sometimes that happens anyway, but that's more due to forgetting to eat or accidentally consuming too much liquor at the local gin mill.
Earlier today, much as right now, I was lying in bed when I sent out my weekly broadcast message to my fellow GiSTers. The message is usually a list of the successes and joys of members within the social network. The Palinode has been trying to get one of his successes into the broadcast message for two weeks, but I have been avoiding it. First, I never want to look like I play favourites, and, second, his success is, well, it is what it is. I don't edit out anyone else's successes from the weekly broadcast, but I just assumed that he was joking about his, because he's really ridiculous a lot of the time, and it's not imperative that I take him seriously whenever he decrees something or makes a request. For example, when he tells me that the puffins are endangered in our city due to The Great De-Beaking of Aught-Nine, I just agree with him. Of course! The Great De-Beaking! What a horrible blight on the history of our fair city's founding.
Okay, I could have listened the first time when he told me over drinks more than two weeks ago, but I didn't. I could have listened when he called me on the phone to ask that I put his success in the broadcast, but I didn't. I didn't listen when he told me in person again or when he e-mailed it to me the first and second times. Then, I lied when he came up to me at home and mentioned that I had missed his little success story in the weekly broadcast. I told him that I was entering it into the list right then. I wasn't, though. I was actually playing a word game on Facebook.
Then, I sent out the Grace in Small Things broadcast message this morning sans the Palinode's piece, because I am an evil person who does not value her life partner's joy. This prompted the following phone call:
"So, that was a good broadcast message. I see that so-and-so has won dancing trophies, and so-and-so is starting her own business..."
"Yeah. There's some good things going on with our fellow GiSters."
"..." His pause was laboured.
"I didn't mention your success again, huh?"
"No, you didn't."
"I apologize for that," I said while giggling, because, seriously, he is becoming my biggest internet stalker to date.
"Not only did my success happen once, but it happened AGAIN. I have been successful TWICE."
"Twice, huh? So I should really mention it, then?"
"Yes," he said.
So, dear internet, he has had the same success not once but twice in the last two weeks:
THE PALINODE HAS FOUND HIS LEATHER GLOVES TWO TIMES.
I know. I could barely believe it myself when I finally stopped to take it into account. They were lost, and then they were found. It's nearly biblical in its proportion.
Now I am going to roll over and go back to dreaming about robotic squirrels reworking my neural pathways with their magnetic feet, because, boy howdy, is this fever ever breeding paranoia about Big Brother in my subconscious.
PS. The Palinode just wrote something that totally kills me. You should go read about how the internet's obsession with pantsbats is influencing the future.