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Cold. Icky, nasty, cold. I thought allergies had taken over my sinuses either because spring is starting to peek out or because a friend of mind just did a beautiful two-room make-over in my house. Dustbunnies galore.
But, no, the fact that I can’t seem to get warm–and other, less palatable–indicators tell me this a raucous cold. It’s turned a perfectly good writing day into a dark, snooze-fest.
Right now, I’m going to curl up under a blanket and watch Ghost Rider with sitter Kim. Hopefully, I’ll feel like actually doing something once the hot tea kicks in.
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