Slippery slope

Even though the weather people said it would snow and be nasty today, unlike the people interviewed on the news, I did not make it to the grocery store to prepare for Snowmageddon. In fact, I never made it out of my pajamas, unless you count the time I spent in a hot shower trying to ease the congestion in my head.

I find the arrival of a particularly nasty little rhinovirus to be rather inconvenient. Yesterday afternoon (at commencements) was when I first became aware of the fact that I had a rather scratchy and sore throat. I thought it was because it was dry in the auditorium, but as the evening progressed, so did the proliferation of symptoms. By morning I was miserable.

As I write this, I've slathered my chest in Vicks, bundled myself in fleece, consumed plenty of oranges, teas and peanut M& Ms and can say with authority, I still feel like crap. I know I've only myself to blame because if I'd listened to the weatherman, I could be downing chicken soup and killing germs as I did, but I have no chicken soup because I never made it to the store. Neither did I get to pick up some soft tissues. I've been using toilet paper to tend to my rhinitis, and now my nose is sore as hell.

Leo, ever grateful to have someone sack out on the sofa with him to share body heat, is the only one who doesn't seem to mind the fact that I'm a viral, infectious and particularly unpleasant human being today. At least someone still loves me.

Apparently, I'm a little whiny, too.


But, even with my viral pollution, I've been knitting my butt off--a byproduct of too much Sudafed (the good stuff the pharmacist has to hand you). I've completed one of the items that's last to go on my knitting list. It's gorgeous, and I'm only going to give you a peek at the end product so I don't ruin it for the snoopy recipient. I think the tam with the corrugated rib pattern was a good primer for this project.

The tree, if you can call it that, is decorated with a handful of favorite ornaments. I don't want to overdo it by burdening the live Norfolk pine, a tropical plant, with too much weight. If I don't kill it, this plant should make it to become a holiday display for years to come. Because you all know of my lack of gardening prowess, I suggest you wish it well now.

Since it's almost time for bed, I'm off to mix up the hallucinogenic concoction of choice: honey, lemon and really good bourbon. If I consume enough, I won't wake up until my cold is gone.

Sweet dreams.