dead and dying

The plague continues. I am afraid I have bronchitis, but that's frankly just my hypochondriac tendencies peeping out. I have graduated from head cold to chest cold. There are disadvantages to each state, but the chronic weakness plus the hoarse voice are a bad combination. This makes interviewing people difficult. They look at you like you have something catching (ya think?) and are generally anxious to get rid of you. I do have to start working again one of these days, though. If I could just manage to make it to my post office box and back without feeling like I was about to collapse . . .

Whining over with, everything else around here is just ducky. I am learning how to play a complicated WWII board game. 'Stacia is learning with me, more or less out of the kindness of her heart. The siblings are beginning to call me Sophie, because they've taken to sitting on me when I'm lying on the couch, and I don't kick them off. (I'm generally too cold. Those little suckers are like space heaters.) I finally got my fax machine/copier/printer combo, and I'm in no mood to appreciate it.

It really hurts to cough.

I will observe, though, that we are 100% happier than in the Great Influenza of 2005 (Feb), in which I was too weak to walk from my bed to the kitchen for Cheerios without stopping twice to sit on the floor and rest. That was scary. This is just annoying. And it thoughtfully waited until I had health insurance again before popping up.