End of Week

Until about half an hour ago I was doing a very good job of pretending that I was not getting sick, with either the wracking cough that's keeping Grace up at night, or the miserable whatsit that has turned M-C into a veritable sleeping machine.

The timing is delicate. I need my voice intact for the performance on Friday. But this weekend is not really a weekend for resting.

I have to run around like a maniac tomorrow afternoon postering for said performance, buying gitch for same, plus acquiring one whole whack of birthday presents. I've got a birthday party tomorrow night that I said I wouldn't miss for anything. And the cupboards, let us say, they are a little bare. I should probably hit a grocery store if I don't want to eat oatmeal for my next 5 meals.

Cold be damned.

I've decided that though it's not great, I actually can be sick starting on Sunda. Sure, I've got a house dinner planned for that night, but I'm going to make the main stuff tomorrow, and Steve and Shelley probably won't care if I'm not at my best, as long as I don't breathe on any of the food after it comes out of the oven.

What with all the stuff to do, I had planned to spend tonight in anyway, reconciling bank statements, drinking tea, maybe doing a little filing. Writing a blog post, though I had envisioned it being one of the ideas burbling, not one of the boring recap ones. Apparently, I'm saving up my weekend excitement. One does need their beauty sleep before a day of maniacal running.

Hey, I'll just pretend my throat feels fine.