Status Report

I spent most of yesterday sick in bed, except for a few hours at the computer playing Battlefield 2, and about an hour spent puttering over a breadboard. I'm not sure what's wrong: I'm tired and I ache all over—and I had a pounding headache all day yesterday. But I don't think that it's the flu because I had a flu shot, and I don't have a fever. Unfortunately, I have no time to be sick today, because my entire department has this incredibly tedious project that we have to work on today and tomorrow, in lieu of real work. I have fortified myself with tea, Pop-Tarts^®, cough drops, tissues, Purell^®, and a handgun, and I will do the best I can under the circumstances.

Meanwhile, Lauren is leaving me alone with Rufus McGoofus this weekend as she goes off to D.C. I would like to be meaningfully better by then, or else life's really going to suck hard.

Worrisome Sign #78,412 (Latest in a Series)

I just typed the clause, "you are ipso facto unfabulous" in an email. This is a sign of something. I'm not sure what, but I doubt it's good.

It's a Fine Line Between Charming and Scary

I gave Leo a chunk of a Carr's Table Water Cracker because he said he wanted to taste it. Once he had the chunk, he looked at it for a moment, and then he dropped it into my glass of water, looked up at me, and exclaimed "goldfish!"