I am so sick.

For those of you who have been silently bitching that there's no new Funundrum, you may now feel bad about yourself for expecting so much out of a sick girl. I have certainly already taken a moment to think the worse of you.

Seriously, though, this cold has kept me home from work for two days. That's a lot, not because of my slavish devotion to my job so much as the fact that I'm a pretty healthy person who has the "I'll suck it up and be just fine" disease that I inherited from my dad.

I have got to move somewhere less beautiful. For those of you who live in overall nice climates (Orange County, Fort Lauderdale, Brisbane: yes, you. Ireland, Las Vegas: not so much.), you know how it is. You're lying there, dead or nearly so, wishing that you could have a brief moment of clarity so you can remember if it's time to take more DayQuil, and then you make the mistake of peering outside, Boo Radley style. Outside, there are birds weaving wreaths of roses to bestow upon passers-by, deer puppies are gamboling upon the sweetly scented rolling hills of grass that weren't there just yesterday, and a cherubic satyr beckons you outside with a beguiling tune from his pan pipes.

And, since you feel like ass, you roll over in your manky pile of blankets and go back to sleep. Good times. But I'm going back to work tomorrow, and with Chris busy this week with rehearsals and such, maybe I can find more crap to throw up here. In the mean time -- if you're healthy, enjoy it. Go outside. Just watch out for the satyr droppings.