Not that it was a particularly exciting weekend. I was all geeked up for one last weekend of skiing. But it was not to be. Mild cold symptoms began Thursday and degenerated into a low-grade fever early Friday morning. I didn’t feel *terrible*, just terribly slow and a little achy, etc. In a strange way it almost felt sort of comfortable. Go figure. We went north anyway, where I actually took a rare afternoon nap on the couch. I dragged myself outside at the end of the day and forced myself to walk to the point and back, a short two-mile walk. I still didn’t have any energy. Woke up early Saturday minus the fever but the *outside* temperature was over thirty and climbing, meaning we’d be *water*-skiing. Not particularly fun. This morning was probably cold enough but I guess I was just at the end. Next year. Jury duty tomorrow. My favorite thing. Maybe if I hack and cough enough they’ll send me home? Naw, no such luck. Well, as Grandroobly would have said, “time for a phlegm-cutter.” And no, I do not know why the GG is holding a birdhouse.

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