And what is in my special Z-catching trap, you ask? Another bed, Choda Boy! I slept in the other room last night whilst the Frenchman stayed in our regular bed. I slept the whole night through without coughing. The Frenchman was worried I’d get cold in the other room, but I was fine. I refuse to sleep in a separate bed for the rest of winter. That just bites. So, we’re also looking into a humidifier — that is, un humidificateur, to you, pal.

Speaking of translations, I’m reading a novel right now where the author has created these French characters who do not really speak French but rather phrases that were either pieced together with a dictionary or that have been run through Babelfish. I’m pulling out my hair as I read one egregious error after another. Most of the time, it’s not even close to the correct spelling or phrase. (And just so you know, Babelfish doesn’t even give what’s called a “literal” translation. It is often completely heedless of grammar, as well as context and idiom.) One would have thought the publisher would give a rat’s ass, but apparently not. Shades of Rowling’s comma splices, no doubt. It all makes the mind boggle…

After this book, I have two James Patterson novels set in San Francisco to gulp down as I go back to Out of Body. I think it will help me steer my San Francisco drama more firmly into thriller territory whilst keeping all the spiritual drama. After that, I have some Margaret Atwood to wash it all down. I’m going to wander back to the British bookstore in Aix and see if I can’t dig up more Peter Straub and maybe some King. I’ve read very little King, and now I have a hankerin’. Go figure.