Still sick. . . Still sick of being sick. . . Still sick of being sick of being sick (ad infinitum)!
Now that that is out of the way, I must say that I am well enough to sit in my writing chair with my Rat Terrier, Max, behind me — serving as a warmer. Don’t worry — I don’t lean on him at all. He just thinks that the space between my back and the chair back is his own little heat-producing cubby. My fingers still work. Yay!
Life could be worse. I wanted to have my grandbabies here tomorrow and take them to mass with me, but I don’t think that I am going to be well enough to do either. My husband is being dispatched to the market tonight for more chicken soup and the like. What a bore I have become. I digress.
I hope that everyone is having a good day today and recovering from their post-Turkey Day triptopane malaise. Or is it malaise(es)? Oh, brother. I must have a fever.
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