Despite holding my breath in the elevator, and what I now admit was approaching obsessive hand-washing for the past several weeks, I seem to have come down with some sort of illness yesterday. I felt great when I got up at 6:00, but by about 11:00 I had a screaming headache, was tired and felt out of sorts. I left work and holed up at the house where I dozed, read and made a vat of bean soup to feed on.
Today brings a sore throat and fatigue. Fatigue really sucks; it's worse than "feeling tired". On the bright side, I have some time to get caught up on my reading. I made the tactical error of starting several books at the same time (I know better, but could not delay gratification). I am currently stalled out on a re-read of Infinite Jest, in the home stretch of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and falling behind on some assigned reading for work (Who's Got Your Back? and Quiet Leadership). To make matters worse, I subscribed to the New Yorker again (on the Kindle this time), so a new one of those chunks in to the e-book every week as well. I hope finish Zen and the Art this week and pass it on, and then I'll probably crank out the office assignments, since Infinite Jest will take a long time to get through and seems better suited to winter evenings anyway.
This evening is the Sandwhich Cats' Mill City Tweed Ride. It's not too late to grab a tweed coat, tie on an ascot and head down to Gold Medal Park if you are so inclined. I have this on my calendar and had hoped to do this just for the novelty of it, but riding around in today's sleet while wearing wet wool (in my weakened condition, no less) would probably kill me, and my co-workers would be really pissed of about that, so I'll stay home and drink hot tea instead.
So, with that, I am going to put on another kettle of water on the stove and find the comforter. Here's a video of a catastrophic wind turbine failure for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy!