As noted yesterday, I've got a cold. Except, it's more than just a cold. Hasn't quite reached flu stage yet, but I know that the commander of the germ squad inside my body is right now finalizing his plans for the next phase of the attack and he's bucking for a promotion or a new stripe on his uniform. He's the Patton of germs. Yesterday's attack was a surprise one. Usually I feel something coming on, but this time it was just there, as if my immune system inadvertently stepped on a landmine. How clever those germs are. So now I just wait. I tried to fend off the coming attack, shoring up my base with Tylenol Flu, but I think this army is too strong for me. I can feel myself weakening already and even as I swallow the Echinacea I found in the back of the cabinet, I can hear the commander germ laughing. Echinacea is a pre-battle weapon, you idiot! It's too late for your silly homeopathic counter attacks! So I think I'll just lay back and take it like a (wo)man. Let them get their attack over with, let them spread throughout my body in their battle formations, attacking my chest, my back, my ears and throat, raising my body temperature, and just when they are ready to settle in for the long haul, I'll drown them with a deadly combination of NyQuil and orange juice. Then I'll just sleep it off as the germ commander slowly realizes he's been not quite foiled, but defeated post-battle. He had a good run. I lost half a day's work yesterday and I'll lose a full day today. But I'll recover nicely, just in time for the busy half of the week, and everyone knows that living well is the best revenge. Steak for lunch tomorrow! Even though I'll be home sick today, I'll try to make the best of it. No laying around on the couch watching cartoons all day for me (everyone knows the best cartoons are on at night, anyhow). No, I'll wrap myself up in a blanket, stack my reinforcements (Excedrin Migraine, herbal tea, tissues) next to the desk in the home office and work the germs away. I've got stories to write. A list to finish. Email to catch up on. Christmas stories to tell. After an hour of this, I'll feel like I'm wasting my day off, even though it's not really a day off, as the germ army has forced my hand here, but I'm not at work and therefore should be doing something that's on par with the importance of work, so as not to feel lazy and unaccomplished. So I will, later on, attempt to mop the floor or prepare some elaborate dinner my family will never eat or do seven loads of laundry, just so I can feel like my day was not empty sea of blogging and playing games. It's a mental battle I fight with myself not only when I'm sick, but every Saturday and Sunday. No rest for the wicked, or something like that. I thank the late Grandma Millie for instilling in me the idea that things like reading, watching television and resting are signs of weakness and worthlessness and I should always be walking around the house with a dustrag, looking for stray specks of dirt, or serving my man. Serving him what? I don't know. Food, drink, whatever. Just as long as I remember that my life's purpose is to have a clean house, a busy stove and a content husband. Grandma, who will have been dead for six years this week, would be none too pleased with me at the moment as my house is not clean, my stove is not busy and my husband, well, let's just say he's content in ways that grandma wasn't referring to. If you give a man that kind of contentment, he won't care if you aren't donning an apron and serving him dinner. Unless, of course, you're not wearing anything under the apron and "serving him dinner" is a clever euphemism. Well, that was off track. And the germ commander has just made it known that he's all about attacking the stomach today. Which calls for a very abrupt end to this post.