Plague o' Crud

I have been home sick for the last week. It's a cold that's going round, nothing much, just a laryngitic throat and a runny nose. Doesn't sound so bad, does it? Except, of course, until yesterday I was in need of one or two lengthy (oh, four to eight hours) naps per day, and every time I woke up I coughed and hacked and spit up horrible green boogers. Drank a LOT of tea. A couple of times I thought I was getting better and went to the Eagle, briefly, to hand out papers (Hans fetched 'em from the printer), check out some movies from the library next door, or just see SOMEBODY other than felines and my Noble Spouse. (Nothing wrong with seeing the Noble Spouse, of course, but after a bit one craves a game of cribbage.) I did this twice, I think, and both times it was a Big Mistake. Nothing like an hour out to require at least six of recovery time. Gads. For "just a cold" it's been the nastiest, sneakiest, snottiest, underhanded little green virus it's been my misfortune to harbor in a long time.

I've been watching a ton of movies: The Fall, The Darjeeling Limited, Looney Tunes, X-Men 1 & 2, Men in Black, The Water Horse, Bridge to Tarabithia, Star Wars II: the Clones, the Californians, Die Another Day. There were a few others, too, but I forget now what they were. Mind fluff, mostly. Comedies that didn't take much thought. And I've been reading a lot of Piers Anthony.

I was hoping to go in to work tomorrow, but after the horrible hacking I endured today, I don't think the folks at the office will want to see me. I'm going to try working from home instead.

Icky, icky, icky.