Tonight Laura commented that my blog entries have been "feverish." Whether she meant all my postings or just the most recent I forgot to ask. Maybe she will leave an official comment clarifying her opinion. Is driving taxi akin to influenza? That I don't know but I am sure it isn't like real "Yellow Fever," that terrible disease leaving your skin a yellowish tinge or shade. Given that I am three quarters Hungarian, a group known for its amber skin tone, maybe being "jaundiced" just comes naturally, not needing any nasty mosquitoes to transmit their haemorrhagic ailment. It might be amusing to be called a human hemorrhage. I have been called everything else beneath the taxi sun."Hey you! with the bloody mouth, you from Transylvania or something? No, my ancestors hail from Budapest.
But perhaps Laura is correct, failing to take a deep breath before assigning myself the task of what I have just recently gone through. Maybe I can take up a collection and buy a decompression chamber, allowing me to avoid the taxi bends. Though from her point of view that might be a mistake as she keeps saying my body is too rigid and requires more flexibility. Regardless it might be useful to create some distance but five days away I have found to be little but a small down payment toward a more permanent sanity. Two months away and I begin feeling somewhat normal. Whether I act normal is of course quite another matter, taxi the supreme "unbalancing" act. What I do know is that I will not be conclusive upon the subject tonight because sleep beckons. I will not argue but instead gladly succumb to sleep's therapeutic quietude. Ah yes, the gentle hand of a most discreet Deity.