It seems that I'm finally coming down with this cold that has been lurking in my body for weeks now. All weekend I was sneezing. Sneezing! Sneezing seems to be to be as much an indicator of a cold as hiccups are indicative of inebriation: more appropriate in a cartoon than Real Life. I am not smoking all week, because my throat has been screaming at me, and I must give the poor thing some rest. But I somehow feel like wine; I want to buy a big bottle of Cafe Zinfandel and slowly get tipsy while watching the Sixers tonight, all by myself. But alcohol is no good for a cold, so we'll see. And I'll curl up somewhere . . . maybe I'll move my papa-san chair into the middle of the room and curl up with the cat. I like him when he's asleep, and just keeping me company. The problem with papa-san chairs -- well, with mine, anyway -- is that it's too big and round and unweildy to have in a central position in the room, but then who wants to curl up in a precarious chair when it's all the way at the periphery?
As long as I don't think about the studying I'm not doing tonight, this will be a nice, relaxing Monday.