I rarely get sick. And because of that blessing, I turn into the most mulish, whiny, inconsolable little baggage when I develop something as ordinary and banal as a head cold. At the moment, I am sitting in my office chair, miserably wrapped in a wool cape, surrounded by paperwork for six different projects, looking at my cup of yogurt and wanting to cry because the soft, slippery coolness isn’t going to relieve my sore throat — and nor will anything else for the next seven to ten days.

I want a grilled cheese sandwich, and a bowl of steamy chicken soup, and my bed with soft pillows and clean sheets. But I have several hours of work to do first, and no bread, or cheese, or chicken at home.

*sigh* Apparently, I really only want to complain.

In other news, the bean sprouts have almost all sprung up into cute little stalks with bright green leaves unfolding from the stems. I was wrong — it is just as cool to see now as it was during first grade. Photos later, when I can get myself and my camera into the garden before sunset.

EDIT: DayQuil and NyQuil are the best. It’s early but I’m off to pack myself into bed by way of a legally-obtained drug-induced haze.