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Getting It Back

The cold last week laid me flat, and I couldn't do anything. Couldn't run, couldn't cook, couldn't write. The house fell to pieces. Darwin is a sweetie in most ways, but he's not really domestic, so when I get sick, you can tell by the condition of the house. (When I first got sick and refused to cook, Darwin said, "So do you want to go out for--" "God, no!" I hacked.  "Oh."  He paused.  "What do you want for takeout, then?")

So now I'm trying to get caught up.  Many papers to grade.  Words to catch up on.  Fridge to restock.  And, of course, wedding plans.  (We still have to The Final Talk with the DJ and the photographer.)

The whirlwind begins . . .
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