P'nyssa's Journal 001 / 0313 He's drooling into his pillow again.P'nyssa's Journal 001 / 0313 He's drooling into his pillow again. I smiled and shook my head slowly, feeling every bone in my spinal column crack as I did so. I know for a fact that my body is in exactly as good a shape as it was when I came out of the tanks 264 years ago. For some reason, though, when I wake up I feel like geriatric decrepitude is setting in. Maybe it's just that as we get older, we start to pay attention to these things. When we were young we were so busy absorbing everything that we didn't notice the vehicle that propelled us through that everything. Now we have more time for introspection. I remember when I had a cold once, when I was only four, and it was the most fascinating thing in the world to me. I felt weak, I felt tired; my telepathy was at it's lowest. I was sick for three days, and there was nothing I could do about it. I only resented the disease because it kept me from enjoying the things I had planned. And back then, planning was everything to me. I'll have to remind Susan to clean the pillowcases when we leave. Or does Dick drool onto his pillow? Do I drool onto mine? It's not a question I've ever bothered to ask him. Maybe I will. I eased my feet over the side of the bed, searching for the slippers. I found one, but it was for the other foot, so I grabbed it with my toes and tossed it up onto the bed. |