Stephen Mejias

The doctor never called back. Maybe tomorrow. Nevertheless, I do feel a bit better. My head still hurts and my throat is still sore, but I've got more energy than I had all week. I picked up the tissues, came to terms with the tea, washed the dishes, and found the energy to set the Moscode aside for now and reinstate the Musical Fidelity A3.5 integrated.

Signs of sickness, with a scent like ennui, all over the apartment: dirtied tissues tossed to the floor, the many jilted cups of tea, unfinished this, unwashed that, empty cans of soup, the pale and quiet Moscode.

I'm sick. About as sick as I've ever been. Come to think of it, I haven't really been well since I came down with the flu at CES. I've been fighting something ever since. And today, it knocked me out. Fever, chills, pain all throughout my body, an excruciating headache.

I've been paying more attention to my trembling hands. I wonder if they shake while I'm playing guitar. Does it contribute to my style? Has it determined the way I fret and strum?

It turns out that Dr">http://blog.stereophile.com/stephenmejias/031606howto/">Dr. L.R., PhD, does not have two first names. While her last name is spelled just like a very ordinary first name, it is pronounced in a way that makes it something entirely different.

JA, the industrious, is home today, working on his review of the Slim">http://www.slimdevices.com/index.html">Slim Devices Squeezebox, which will appear in our next eNewsletterhttp://www.stereophile.com/enewsletters/">eNewsletter;. This makes me happy. Happy, not because JA, the boss, is home, but happy because he's working on his review of the Squeezebox. And, the Squeezebox, as">http://forums.slimdevices.com/showthread.php?t=21628">as we know, with all of its delicious features and its oh-so-sleek-and-simple lines that fit snugly in the tiniest of corners to broadcast your Editors and Jimmy Edgars and Pink Martinis and Sonic Youth-slash-Fugazis from your office to your kitchen to your bedside window ledge to your broom closet and back into your sweetly pitter-pattering music-loving heart,

"Thanks for listening."




I wish she would call.