The Houston half went pretty well, though, par for the course, I got sick. Same old refrain for 2008 for me. I managed to hang on until we got home and then I took to the bed and there I spent the next seven days, lamenting my ill luck, my sweating brow, and my un-ending cough.
Monday the work routine starts again and I'm not prepared. I haven't developed a plan for the English 1-2 course I'm piloting. I do have the first couple of lesson printed off, but I still don't have the stories chosen and the over-all bird's-eye-view of the course in my head. Here's to winging it, I suppose.
My head is still awhirl, though I do feel marginally better than yesterday. My cough remains persistent and my sinuses refuse to dry up. The dogs and even Hubby are thoroughly disgusted with my vegetative state and I can't get up enough energy to really care. "Go. Run in the park. Have fun. Go to the party. I simply can't be bothered," I mumble as I climb back in bed for another three hour nap.
By Monday morning, though, I've got to have recovered sufficiently to pop out of bed at 5 a.m. and put on clothing -- not sweat pants and dirty tee-shirts. I think that means I need to do a load of wash. Darn it, there's always something.
Here's another happy Houston holiday picture of Hubby opening one of his sock gifts, Luie at the far left trying to make his sheep toy "baa-baa" (blind dogs need noisy toys), and little Gus hoping that the present his papa is opening is a treat he can share:
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