Everyone in the house is sick, to greater or lesser degree. Today was a snow day; the phone call from the alert system telling us this came at 5:30 a.m., and woke our boychick – which meant that whether I intended to be awake or not, I was getting up every seven minutes. And as Murphy would have it, last night was one for rodent-wheel insomnia. (You know, the kind where the brain is spinning off to nowhere, but won’t shut up? Yeah, I thought you did.) I am sick and tired of being sick and tired and in a rotten mood. I don’t even want to be on the same planet as me. So you who talk to me, be it occasionally or regularly? Consider yourself warned.
Here endeth the kvetch.