…but I do have Con Crud. Blargh.
For a little bit, I thought it was just the dry-hotel-air sore throat, but it has spread and expanded and become full blown crud. So I am wandering around in a haze of DayQuil and occasionally horking up lung-bunnies.
Also, there was a stretch yesterday where something—DC tap water? shepherd’s pie? questionable chicken salad?—attacked, and I spent several exciting hours in the bathroom, watching my intestinal fauna experience a die-off on the order of the K-T Event. That seems to mostly be over. I think. Thank god for seed catalogs to read in the bathroom.
But time and deadlines wait for no woman! I have to get art edits for Fairybreath done by tomorrow, there are prints to run, and so on and so forth. Onward! Upward! Sideward! Etcward!
