It never fails. Somewhere around the holidays a Bad Cold lurks, just waiting to pounce. It's been sniffing around for a week or so. I could feel its malevolent eyes on my back, but it seemed that the vitamin C and garlic were giving it second thoughts. Yesterday it lunged right past all that and landed square on my chest. Damn.
The good news is, I was off work already, so I didn't have to call in sick. At our office that is the unforgivable sin, officially recorded and held against us for a full calendar year. It doesn't matter if it's a cold or a heart attack; you still get demerits for it unless it was pre-approved. One of the many joys of life in a cube farm. The bad news, of course, is that I have to be sick for these precious, few holiday hours away from the place. Again, damn.
Yesterday it was just your garden variety misery, so some cleaning, laundry and baking still got done. Today I want my bed, lots of juice, and many sleep-inducing drugs. Needless to say, my productivity has taken quite a tumble. The possibility of homemade decorated sugar cookies is growing slim. The ones at the bakery are sounding better all the time.
I am congratulating myself on having finished my shopping and on having the kind of husband who picks up slack. He's out there even as we speak, rounding up the ingredients for my vegetable soup and tracking down the Christmas roast beast. So that I can sit here, relax a bit and touch base with all of you. Ain't he a keeper?
I do hope all of you are well and are having happy holidays. Sorry I haven't been getting around much to read and comment lately, and I promise to visit soon.