[You know that scene from When Harry Met Sally where they lie in bed and moan at one another over the phone. I love that scene.]
Have full-on cold now. Moving into my chest, and I hope, one it's way out shortly thereafter. My house is beginning to look like an art gallery for some avant garde artist who's discovered Kleenex as a medium.
[Also, my categories are gone from my composer. Don't feel up to hunting them down. God, I hope it's just a temporary glitch. Couldn't possibly reassign five years of entries.]