So the Little Prince and I both have the same deep chest cough and general meh. It did not stop me from going out and doing a short (just a couple miles, I swear!) run today, though by the end of the second mile I was awful glad that all I had to do was walk home. I’ve just now amped up my training schedule, I can’t afford to lose a day. I’m going to drink a tonne of tea and water, and make chicken soup tonight, and generally baby both myself and the little ones. (It’s Finals Week for the Princess, which probably means she needs the babying more than she’ll ever admit.)
I had mad thoughts of taking Miss B and Odd to the dog park, but have decided against it. It’s cold, the forecast calls for rain (FINALLY!), and every time Odd goes to the dog park he gets so excited he comes home, staggers to his bed, promptly has a seizure, and throws up. He literally excites himself into passing out and puking. I can’t decide if he’s just at frat-boy age for a dog, or if he’s the Little Prince’s (remember, his other name is Sir Pewksalot) spirit animal.
So yeah, gallons of hot tea. Moving verreh slowly. I have to get a sorceress involved with a fight against a mad semi-ghost coachman, and also get the trailer-park fae hero to the tavern where he and the heroine will begin their mutual dance of distrust and recrimination. That’s the thing about working from home, there’s sometimes just not a good reason to take a day off, even when you’re coughing up chunks of lung.
Yeah, you’re welcome for that mental image.
Over and out.
Mirrored from Ragged Feathers.