Apparently lots of nights of getting up every two hours to either let your dog out or check to see if she needs to be let out while she’s sleeping soundly coupled with the Holiday exposure to lots of friendly people has resulted in my yearly Christmas cold.
I have no cold medicine in the house.
So, fuck, I guess I’ll get up, go to work, get some cold medicine, come home, take it, and try to sleep this fucker off.
I’m trying to read Silber’s Gender and the Sectional Conflict (which is fancy talk for the Civil War) and I can’t. It literally makes me want to punch UNC Press. It’s beautifully designed, but the type is so delicate and my eyes so bad I can’t read it in the evenings. So, that would be an advantage to staying home and being sick all day–daylight may make that type more legible. But I’m scheduled to go to the scary part of the library today and I really, really don’t want to miss that.
Gripe. Complain. Snot. Blah.
Seriously, folks, let’s just write December 2011 off as the month Tiny Cat Pants was devoted solely to ways bodies fuck up. Let’s hope January 2012 is full of smooches or awesome things your cats can do without training.