rivka

For approximately the six-millionth time this winter (okay, spring), I have a cold. Sore throat, headache, chills, sniffly, the whole exhilarating bonanza. I don't know why this stuff has been hitting me again and again and again. (Um. Other than, I don't get enough sleep or enough vitamins, and I spend most days in medical clinics with large numbers of immunocompromised people. Could that be it?)

But this time, it's all Ben's fault. He was just sick with a cold, but he shook it off in a day or two. That's my plan too. I cancelled my patients tomorrow (I'm not doing them a favor by coming in sick, not with their immune systems), and I intend to spend the day on the couch, under a blanket, and (hopefully, if the package arrives when it ought) deep in Bujold's Diplomatic Immunity. And sleeping. And drinking fluids. I will kill this cold with rest and vitamin C. Strictly speaking, I'm not sick enough to stay home from work: even if I oughtn't go to the clinic, I could go in to the office and wrangle data. But I've found that taking a cold immediately to bed cuts my recovery time immensely.

And I must be healthy by Friday, for my long-awaited visit with