I developed a cold* over the weekend – who would have thought that waking around in November rain could have adverse side effects? – and have spent the last two days at home. Two huge containers of orange juice, countless packets of Emergen-C, multiple chicken-based meals later and four cheesy rom-coms later, I’m still down for the count.

I’m not good at being sick.

Beth IMed me to check in on me – because she’s lovely like that – which led to the following exchange:

Beth: how are you feeling?
Victoria: eh. i’m plugging away. i’ll be fine
B: well, that is not really a ringing endorsement
V: oh well
V: it’s always sad when you don’t feel well and you just want someone to take care of you
V: even if you know that if someone did
V: you’d want to be left alone
B: so true.
B: it would be nice to have someone to bring you whatever you wanted.  but then to disappear or not talk when you don’t want them to
V: or just rub your back, tell you you’re great and then go make more tea
V: soup, tea, backrubs. dear men of boston, have i got a position for you! apply within. don’t fight, don’t fight, there are plenty of applications available
B: LMAO
B: perfect

* My brother has decided to refer to my cold as “swine avarian flu with hints of the Plague, fever and augue, the Consumption and grippe.” Which made me laugh for a good solid 45 seconds without stopping because I couldn’t stop laughing at the way “grippe” is spelled. I was on cold medication at the time, if that helps.