That would be the inside of my head, this morning. Though I am feeling marginally better. When I went to bed at 10-ish last night, I thought, “Boy howdy, I’m tired.” And as I was drifting off to sleep, I realized that I had been up for most of the preceding 24 hours, and a normal human being [I hear you kids snickering; stop it, or I’ll breathe on you!] would indeed be tired if that were the case.
I have already called in to the office. One of the blessings of being this congested is that nobody who heard me honking and sneezing yesterday, or who listens to the voicemail I left this morning, can accuse me of faking it. Thankfully, I have a nearly-full box of Puffs here on the coffee table, and another nearly-full box out in the car.
But there will be no Knit Night tonight, though there will likely be knitting all day. The sock is back in my good graces, and I managed to knit almost an inch of gusset increases yesterday. I was hoping that unbundling the computer cables to schlep the CPU to Secondborn’s on Saturday would cure the popping and crackling in the speakers, but no such luck. I tried to listen to an archived episode of Sticks and String, and it sounded as if David had eaten an entire case of Pop Rocks.
As you can see, my sense of humor is limping back. As is my 1-900 voice. Between the garlic-cheese biscuits on Sunday and the horseradish mashed potatoes for dinner last night, my breath and my skin and probably even my hair, smell like the International Food Court at the 1963 Seattle World’s Fair. You would probably not want to be downwind of me, and I haven’t even begun to make that pot of chili I was fantasizing about last night.
I finished the Marcella Hazan memoir, Amarcord: Marcella Remembers, and it is now on the shelf with my cookbooks and related topics. There is a little cartoon near the back of the book, all the more delightful because it was unexpected. Not sure what I want to read next. This might be a good day to sort through catalogues and some of the magazines that I haven’t gotten to yet.
I got almost six hours of sleep last night. I just finished a mug of apple juice and think I will have another, and maybe some cinnamon toast. And then I think I want a little nap, to celebrate leveling-up in Fairyland. I have somehow managed to stumble up to level 8, and my wildlife is allegedly talented, whatever that means.
My friend Francis had a great post waiting for me in my Bloglines. It links to the NYTimes obit of the man who was the inspiration for Rainman. Apparently, once upon a time the family lived in Arlington. And he passed away in Salt Lake City, which makes me wonder if he or some of his family was LDS?
Mmm, cinnamon toast. My world is looking brighter already...
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!