The bad news is, I'm still sick, and actually feeling worse than I was last week. Bleagh. I went to the doctor this morning, got a prescription for antibiotics and a week off work, and am back to lying around the house feeling cruddy.

I finished a new short story yesterday, which was good because I like it and because writing it made me feel better, on all sorts of levels. (It was written mostly in response to really sad, upsetting news, and so writing it helped me cope in some of the same ways that writing The Little Tailor did.) But now it's time for revision, which means checking to make sure I got all the details right. Does anyone who's reading this entry play the saxophone? Or did in the past, or have friends who do? If so, does anyone know whether a saxophone is taken into pieces before it's stored in a case? And, if so, what are the pieces called?

Also because of the story, I'm really in the mood for late-1930s, 1940s jazz. Any recommendations?

Now it's time to go lie down again...