I had such a fabulous Friday--a phone call to gossip about Gray's Anatomy, a new recipe, a lovely drive up to Washington, a baby shower that my aunt and cousin and SIL threw for me, tiramisu--but instead of waking up Saturday to write about it, I woke up Saturday with a monster cold. A terrible, no good, perfectly horribly rotten cold, with ear aches. In both ears.
And just for good measure, Jason had to be gone all day yesterday so I suffered through the day without him. I felt so awful I didn't have enough energy to feel even the least bit guilty that I allowed Sydney to watch 3 hours of TV while I was curled up on the couch with my hot water bottle.
We're in survival mode, and if Winnie the Pooh can help me get through my misery, then so be it.
However, this afternoon's TV experience has been no good. The Seahawks lost, The Patriots are losing, and I just saw a Taco Bell ad on TV using the word "stuft." As in "Stuft Tacos." As in "my nose is stuft." As in "we've stuft spelling rules in the garbage." If I didn't already feel sick, I would now.
I'm taking a nap.