I just learned a new word: fantastico. According to The Free Dictionary, it means a very bizarre person. Merriam-Webster has it as an ridiculously fantastic individual. But “fantastic” isn’t very wonderful in all the definitions of it.

In any other company, I suppose I would have come across as a bit of a fantastico (Free Dictionary definition) last weekend. Since I was in the company of authors, I was likely just looked upon as introverted. I barely talked to anyone because I was so damned sick. I went out of my way, in fact, to keep out of everyone’s way so I didn’t infect them. I still made it to almost all 12 of the lectures and masterclasses, though. Some I was nodding off during, mostly because I wasn’t sleeping at night for the coughing.

So I have a few regrets, none of which I had any control over. But I still feel bad.

I regret not being able to enjoy myself fully.

I regret not being able to mingle and make friends.

I regret not writing and/or editing more: I was in the ABSOLUTELY perfect location for the book I’m working on, but I couldn’t take advantage of it.

And I regret not participating in SoCS last week. I had the perfect response, because man, could I have used an appointment with an ENT (Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist). 😛 Saturday night I missed one of the events I had a ticket for: I coughed so much, I made my throat bleed.

I’m still not over it. It’s a nasty one. With really bad timing.

I did get a few pictures, though.

It’s funny. This is the second time I’ve had a reservation at this particular hotel. The first time, in 2016 I think, I got sick before I got there and had to cancel. Maybe the hotel is just unlucky for me.

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