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Sunday,
January 1, 2006

My window is open -- what's wrong with this picture?

Yes, happy 2006 -- I did think of doing a yearly roundup, but realized after getting to April that 2005 pretty much sucked for me, so why go over all that again, eh? In the meantime, Europe is experiencing record snowfalls, the West Coast is being drenched, and most of Texas is under a burn ban. Global warming, much?

While I appreciate the fact that I don't have to run the furnace and, indeed, it smells quite nice out there, it also just seems wrong to have the windows opened and enjoy a pleasant breeze on January 1. Especially since I'm on Day Two of a freaking cold and can't even really enjoy it with my sniffer stuffed with gunk, not to mention what's happening with the brain.

Oh, yes, the brain. As I explained it to the Bodacious Brit, it appears that my grey matter has somehow transformed into a large, meaty 20-sided die that is slowly tumbling inside my skull. Every time it lands with a damp thunk on a new facet, my mind abruptly jumps tracks -- I could be thinking about autism or miniatures, and suddenly I'm thinking about Gilbert & Sullivan or how the lettering on my beloved's t-shirt isn't aligned properly with the weave of the fabric (Monk has nothing on me when I'm sick). I can't focus on anything useful like writing or knitting, but I can't go to sleep either because the die won't stop tumbling.

This may be a night for NyQuil, that's all I'm saying.

And JJ keeps sneezing, poor thing -- I think he's allergic to something that's blooming in the freaking unseasonable heat, an idea with which the vet concurs and which may require antihistamines to be added to his current medication list (antiviral and steroid drops to the Gunky Eye, three and four times daily, and half an anti-inflammatory twice a week -- the drops should be discontinued once his eye is completely healed, but he'll be taking the pills for the rest of his little moggie life in an attempt to ward off any further flareups of the Gunky Eye). And the BB said that he may be getting my cold, which means he will be glugging down gallons of OJ tomorrow and sleeping in the hopes of heading off the Gunk. And I'm pissed that I'm wasting a rare and lovely 3-day weekend with being sick for at least 2/3 of it.

Bah. I wave my paw. On the plus side, after watching THE GIRL IN THE CAFE this evening, I have come to the realization that Bill Nighy will always be a rock star in my heart, no matter what he's actually playing on screen.