I caught a terrible cold on Sunday. It was sort of odd. The boy and I have been going to the CG3 on Sundays. He lifts weights, or something, while I run on the indoor track. We were on our way out when I sneezed. And sneezed again. And kept sneezing and within an hour was full-blown just terribly sick and miserable, the kind of sick and miserable where your boyfriend makes the mistake of trying to find out what kind of cold medicine you want him to buy and you begin screeching at him because you can’t summon the energy to answer a question. Even one asked in your own best interest.
I am starting to feel a little better, although somewhat in a malaise. I keep thinking the Onion should have a headline reading: Liberal Journalists Become Depressed Following Obama’s Win, Sink Into Existential Despair. Well, it’s not that bad, really, but it is sort of strange to have one’s main past-time, that being obsessing about the election, be over. Thank God for knitting. And drinking (although the latter, not ever a major activity, has been heavily curtailed in the face of the excessive sneezing).
So Thursday is Thanksgiving, my least favorite holiday, since hanging around all day waiting to eat an enormous meal doesn’t rank high on my list of fun ways to spend a day off. For the second year in a row, the boy and I have agreed to forego socializing and just hang out, eat something, and be done with it. We did it last year, for the first time, and realized it was more pleasant. He works that night, so if I feel the need for people I’ll drop in somewhere and mooch pie. Friday, for the first time in years, I’m actually having a birthday, well pre-birthday party, with my friend Kate, who shares the same birthday. Yet another reason to rest up and stop sneezing.
And I suppose I should try to locate some renewed energy toward this blog. It’s surely overdue for a makeover of some sort. For those of you who have stuck with me, feel free to send your suggestions.