Waking With Annoying Frequency

I became the unwitting victim of Miss Head Cold's malicious hand Wednesday afternoon, which should help explain why there was no post yesterday. Imagine me in bed, keyboard on my lap, trying to force a post that persistently resisted being posted. Really, I tried - a number of times - and it was wasted effort, and anybody that knows me knows that when I've contracted a head cold I immediately lose any semblance of intelligence I may have had. It's a very striking difference, really.

One of the good things about staying home sick, though, was that I finished reading Smoke and Mirrors. As I've come to expect from Neil Gaiman, his good writing is very, very good and his less-than-good writing is, well, less-than-good. In fact, at times I wish I'd never started the particular short story so that I wouldn't feel obligated to finish it, which I usually do and which I am usually less than thrilled about.

Last night I was in bed by 8, and I remember seeing the digits before the flashing colon at 12, 3, and 5; this leads me to believe that I did not have a good night's rest and is corroborated by the fact that today I'm awfully exhausted.

I don't think I'm quite over her yet. I suppose I'll need more vitamins.