Coffee in one fist, orange juice in the other.

I have a scab mustache and I can only breathe through my left nostril. Damn you nephews!

I love my nephews, don't get me wrong. But J and I get sick every time we see them.

We're hoping the Sprog hasn't caught anything.

He seems to be waking up. J is still asleep. And my right nostril has a slow, quiet drip, like the train station gutter in Once Upon A Time in the West.

Immune system showdown, itchy trigger finger...

I had PLANS, dammit. Not resolutions. But I had plans to ring in the new Year with esteem-building productivity and maybe a gentle jog or two around the park.

Now I'm sitting in the dim light of my living room, watching the Sprog practice leg swinging in his bouncy chair, while reruns of Next Generation murmur in the background.

Of course, when I put it like that, it doesn't sound so bad.

Comments

[tracey]

Scab mustache?? I am dying over here!!!