This my one-hundredth post. I am wallowing in phlegm, tissues, and self-pity so this is going to be something less than substantial.
Currently, I'm watching a Remington Steele episode. I'd planned to spend the afternoon reading in bed, but this was not to be. Firstly my older son is also sick with both a flu and a stomach bug. Secondly, I have nothing to read. The public library is closed til Tuesday, there's nothing of interest in the library's ebook collection, and I just can not bring myself to spend more than $10 for a book on the Sony Reader Store.
I'm cautious about what I read when I have a fever. My dreams are weird enough when I am healthy. But when I'm fevered, they get really trippy. Which is why I'm setting aside my current read, which is about the inevitable and colossal earthquake that will devastate the coast of BC at any point in the next 200 years. When I was sick in January (or was it February?) I read The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. I had freaky dreams for days. I think pretty much everything you need to know about The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo is that it was originally published under the title Men Who Hate Women. It had been recommended to me by several people, including someone in my family who is very religious and who loved it. Also a very soft-spoken, demure, crunchy-granola, yoga-loving type woman who -- when I asked her if it was graphically violent -- said, "No. Not at all." I now have LOTS of questions about her personal predilections and history.
The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is the most recent title recommended to me that was a grave disappointment. A few other titles: Twilight, The Kite Runner, The Road, The Help and Marley & Me. I am not a fan of pies made of poop, people eating one another, dogs that need to be shot, rape and/or poorly written prose about vampires. At this point I'm going to either stop soliciting book recommendations, or preface my requests with the statement, "In the event that the title you recommend sucks, I will think less of you."
• • • •
It's later now. Mr Wrath and Klaxon (who are both healthy) have gone for walk with the Wunder Dog. Upstairs Zarf, has eaten six saltines and a bowl of rice and not vomited. And I feel so badly for him, I'm letting him have my humidifier. He is sitting up in bed watching Scooby-Doo. I've got another mug of hot lemon with honey and another episode of Remington Steele is playing in the background. I guess as far as lazy Sundays go, this one isn't bad. But that might just be because these non-drowsy Advil Cold & Flu pills pack a pretty good punch.
I fear this maybe the most boring post ever composed. I wish it weren't, but this is all the creativeness I can muster. Does it elevate the status if I include a snap of the awesome present we received from The Awefull Family? Look at it:
I'm adding this bobble-headed bowling girl trophy to the list of ten things I will save if the house burns down. Sorry, boys, your baby books have been demoted.
And on that (possibly unintelligent and/or cruel) sentiment, I'm going to take a nap.