Sick

I'm sick. I've got one of those colds that slams you in the face and tosses you on your bed for 2 days straight. If I could, I'd go right back to school and breath on the darling little children who gave me this affliction. It's the gift that keeps on giving.

While I've been lying on my bed feeling sorry for myself, I've been reading. I've been reading the books that my mom and I passed back and forth for years and years ~ Regency Romances. (Mom's favorite was Georgette Heyer, but she's a little too verbose for my tastes.) I've read 3 in a day and a half. And now I'm going a little nuts. And I'm starting to talk like those people. "Fie on you, sirrah! I am afraid I shall have to shout until some footmen come to cast you out!" I know. But I blame my mother. She got me hooked on these things. She'd read them as she sat pulled up to the bread board in the kitchen eating something from her hidden stash. I'd catch her reading far into the night at that bread board. She always read them straight through.

And speaking of "sick"... I just transcribed the following: His foot is drying up and swelling is going down. His wife has not been taping him in between the toes and so he is damp and gluey in between the toes. I have recommended that she tape the foot like I have recommended. She can wash it daily with peroxide and using a wash cloth to get between the toes.

I think after that I'm going to head back to bed.