Reading the New Yorker was exhausting...oh...no, maybe it was that you woke up at three and didn't go back to sleep. Either way, we did actually read the New Yorker per your request. Fascinating articles. Outdated, but whatever.
You slept for a while in the living room and I was so feeling so wretched that I decided to throw some steaming hot naan on my head. It helped. As did the fact that every single animal in the house was attached to either you or me throughout the last 24 hours...
When you woke up we cuddled. Then we played a little before cuddling. We ate, then cuddled, then went to bed. We're so sick! I wonder if this is the flu but lessened because of the shot? I've never had a cold like this, I hope mine is worse than yours because I can't imagine not knowing what's going on and feeling like this. It's the only way it could get worse really... Well, that or being required to watch Mighty Machines over and over and over and over and over only breaking to watch fire trucks on parade or garbage trucks picking up trash. Sigh. My head hurts. I want some of the snot to loosen, Man, that's all I really want. I'll watch your sireny stuff more happily, I promise, when it's not reverberating in an otherwise stagnant mass of mucus.
Sorry for that. I'm not erasing it though. This is life.
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