The Arrogant Emu

It was one thirty by the time I came home at last to have lunch. By then I was not feeling at all well. I was footsore (but I’m quite used to that by now) and calf-sore, by lower back was burning the way it does when I lie down, except now I was standing up and couldn’t get away from it. My head was aching dreadfullly. I wondered if I might not have had a touch of the sun.

As a muched my lunch, I debated with myself. "Go to the Vatican? I must! Since all the other Greek and Roman sites are close, AND all the churches too (note to travllers, Rome shuts down on Mondays!) I must at least see some more sculpture before I leave."

You should have gone in the morning if you were going to go at all. It’s only open for a few hours more, and it’s quite expensive. You can go on one of your days off.

But that will cost money.

So will going and not seeing it all. And you’re not feeling well. You had much better sleep.

Perhaps I’ll feel better when I’m walking around looking at art.

My only answer to this was to laugh, stand up, and demonstrate the entertaining way the world seemed to be growing less and less substantial. With a groan, I conceded, and so spent the afternoon sleeping and drowsing, surfacing only to get water (for the food I had had for lunch was all very salty, which was just as well.)

So here I am in the evening, aching in every part but with no sign of sunburn. I suppose it might be dehydratyion, but I’ve been drinking faithfully. So I will ascribe it to tiredness and a touch of the sun, and will take it easy all evening.