I'm a big fan of Bruce Dickinson's new album, Tyranny of Souls. What science fiction fan couldn't love an album that opens with:

Quatermass where are you?
Professor Quatermass where are you?
Mankind returns to the stars,
But sometimes, the stars return to mankind.
Didn't you come this way before?
A million years ago.

Or contains,

Our children will go on and on,
To navigate the seas of the sun.

All albums should be science fiction or fantasy. I have no time for reality.

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You're lying down, trying to rest, so you can feel well enough to go back to work tomorrow. You're thinking about stories, novels, ideas. You start to get excited about them, so you sit up. You can't lie down when you're excited. Then you feel sick again.

Bah.

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We spent the weekend at my mother's house. The weather was beautiful, and we sat out on the lawn, under the cherry tree, all Sunday. If we'd had a week of that, we'd both be feeling a lot better and a lot more rested. We couldn't, so we're both still exhausted. But it was a wonderfully relaxing 48 hours, anyway.