Well golly, there's nothing like strep throat to give a hard workin' gal an unwanted vacation. Here I am at home with my gigantic red antibiotics, reading my cat's blog, and having a minor nervous breakdown about--you guessed it--getting everything done.
At least I'm really not all that tired, considering I spent much of the night consuming blue popsicles and attending to various juvenile requests.
24 hours until I'm not contagious. But what to do until then? If only I hadn't squandered my fevered insanity of Sunday evening on sleeping and complaining, instead of writing feverishly insane poems.
And no, it's not a case of praire fever, in case you wondered.