Persistent.

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Some say that about me, usually in a dark way as in weed.  I write about the fever.  It is mild asthey go.  A few degrees of elevation only. Being that I run cold, literally, it might not register.  I know it, feel it... exactly behind the skin and bones of my face.  A week now?  Or longer.  I've hacked a few times as well.  No other symptoms, save possibly exhaustion.

One more bill to pay, then finances need to be figured and sorted.  Work as I may, too.  All with caution.  Do not wish to exacerbate this mostly sleeping monster.

There is something else I mean to do for my mother.  Can't until next month, but that works.  Then back to birthday, Christmas, and random occasional or need.  She has mostly learned how to live on air.  Well, and she makes herself useful.  That... never hurts.  People can love you all you or they want, but most won't, many can't, split out even a nickel unless not doing so would cost even more.  Fair, not?  Reality, cope.  She is and has been useful well and long enough to have serious resources, which she very rarely, and not without great cause, employs.  Better to gift her from time to time or deep in debt to her one remains.  Some can live with and like that. I can't.

Later.