She has the flu

“She” being me, of course, and the “flu” probably being more of a bad cold.  Not enough to make me stay home with the covers over my head, but enough to make me sound like I’m hacking up a lung every few minutes.

I thought I was going to escape my annual chest cold this year, and segue right into spring allergies instead.  But there’s some nasty bug making the rounds at the office, and I seem to have acquired it.  Maybe it’ll last long enough to get me past the spring blooms.  I can’t suffer from seasonal allergies if I’m already swimming in a pool of viral goo, right?  Please, can this be true?  I don’t mind one or the other, but both would just be too cruel.

Still, feeling like watered-down crap has its benefits.  I’ve been deliberately going to bed early and sleeping in as much as possible, so the time change didn’t make such a big mess with my internal clock.  And I let myself have a little down-time this weekend while my kiddo was with her father.  I caught up on the entire TiVo queue, AND half of NetFlix.  Because I’m biologically incapable of just sitting still, this meant I did some half-hearted work in the form of grooming the hairy dogs and prepping the labels for my next club mailing. Both things I can do slowly, from the comfort of my couch.