I'm sick, and I have no filter.

As evidenced by the fact that last night, just before I stumbled into bed, and just after one last trip to the loo, I remarked to Middlest, "My tush sounds like that sweet potato I nuked in the microwave at work last week." (The one whose singing I captured on video and posted to FB.) And we both cracked up.

I am on a new-to-me antibiotic (Cefdinir) and industrial strength cough medicine (Virtussin AC). A friend on FB warned me that the antibiotic was likely to clean me out. Which should counteract the codeine in the cough medicine rather nicely. Or possibly set off the 1812 Overture in my gut as they fight for bragging rights. I'm taking my probiotics as usual and will supplement with "lots of yogurt".

At any rate, I am going nowhere this weekend. Middlest dished up my breakfast and vitamins, in self-preservation. I am allowed to load and run the dishwasher but not to empty it. Firstborn and Fourthborn will pick up our quilt blocks this morning.

I did manage to wind two balls of yarn yesterday. The first one fell off the new swift onto the floor and required three to four hours to untangle. The second one was significantly more cooperative. I am retiring the swift to sculpture status and will order a different swift from Ed Jenkins' protege after the first of the year.

Breakfast is down the hatch. The dishwasher is running. At some point this morning I will take a nice long shower, but for now I am setting the alarm and going back to bed.