(no subject)

I seem to have a light touch of the cold. Sniffles, a little stuffiness... no raspy throat, no sore throat, no aches and pains, and my head is still not packed in cotton. (Knock on wood).

However, gifted Should-Have-Won-An-Academy-Award Actress that I am, I've done my sniffles and snuffles and false cough (actually, not so false. If you water your lungs, you invariably cough. Go and figure).

Everyone is "poor you!" all over me. Sure sure. This is poor me without any meds to help in breathing, and I'm still managing to breathe. I could of course correct them, wave a hand and say, "Oh, I'm fine. It's just a light touch. I've had allergies far worse!", but -- I have a basement to finish, and I needs to paint the trim for my brother's room.

Hrm.

Hmm.

Yup. Spoke to The Wench who is heading downtown for the cancelled Playboy Autograph session. (The nice people of the CBC Broadcasting firm decided to revoke their OKAY for a signing session in their building. They waited until yesterday to do so, though.) The Wench said, "Oh, no... go home. Don't breathe on me."

Works for me. I'll be burning some simple work to CD, taking that home so that I can do it in the hour it'll take to do. It'll look like a lot more time consuming a project to others, but... not caring. It's better this way.

Hee!

And I might pick up some of the Dimetapp cold syrup. It tastes yummy, but I was all out last night at home.