Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Day 109: Dull and Clogged (But Not a Psycho)

I use my editing powers for good, not evil.

(My favorite example of the need for series commas is this possibly apocryphal book dedication: "To my parents, Ayn Rand and God.")

Just got off the phone with Inspirational Kathy, who may singlehandedly jump-start my brilliant editing career, whee! We'll see what happens. More will be revealed.

I did get some editing work for this week and next, so I'm less panicky; still, things are definitely slower. I will and must address this ASAP.

But not today, I'm feeling dull and stupit, I've succumbed to the cold that has been dancing around me since school began, and it's ironic because I have a sore throat and all-over body aches, for which I would usually take Motrin, but I can't have any ibuprofen before my biopsy on Friday because it will thin my blood too much.

So I sneeze, I ache, I mope, I guzzle hot tea. What else can I do?

(And wouldn't you think this would result in weight loss? But I am too full of snot, apparently; the scale's not budging.)

I'm only allowing myself to wallow today, though; tonight I must be sprightly and attentive at Mimosa's back-to-school night (I won't touch anyone, and I'll sneeze into my sleeve), and tomorrow begins a 72-hour whirlwind of activity:
  • A walk and coffee with Writer Jenny, lunch with Kind Tina, dessert-making, and dinner in my neighbor's sukkah!
  • Biopsy, lunch with Mrs. Cynicletary, pie-baking, a journey by subway into the big city, and dinner with my Alterna-Husband and his nice wife!
  • Zumba with Eddie Dance Party, and Town Day, which includes a performance by Mimosa and the Madrigals, plus Man-Made Chili and the Pie Palace at our church!
And then . . . collapse! But I can't be really sick, in other words. The Great World needs me.

Off to sit on my couch huddled under a blankie, with 90 drinks and some hot mushroom-barley soup and a pile of enticing library books. I am depending on the magic of Tylenol, which I have nicknamed "the drug that does nothing!", also prayer. Keep a good thought for me, will you?

Honk, sneeze, blow.

—Lady C


  1. Use your editing skills to turn that cold into could!
    Mrs. Cynicletary

    1. I'll kill my ill! Beat my sick with a stick! Hee.

      Thanks for making me laugh! I promise not to sneeze on you Friday. Or squeeze you either, I'll keep a respectful and Purell-sanctioned distance.

  2. Replies
    1. Thanks, hon! I'm on the Road to Wellville as we speak.