*drags self out of bed*

Twenty-two hours in bed. And I only got up because George ordered in fried chicken and wanted me to have something to eat (and, to be honest, I find it difficult to resist good fried chicken).

Don't see much point in being up, but here I am, typing away.

Thanks to all who posted words of encouragement. Right now everything just seems pointless and I can't decide what I want to do; I'd go back to bed, but I'm not sure I could get back to sleep again.