Le Miserables

The woogy sense of thinking and the slight scratchiness in my throat have finally come to the forefront. I am officially sick and have taken the afternoon off. In my 20s I used to go entire years without taking a sick day. There is still a little part of me that says, If you can sit up, you should be at your desk. But I also don't want to infect everybody else at the office, both for their sake and because if they end up sick I may have to teach their classes.

So I'm on the couch, in a blanket, with nothing to read. I just finished Donald Miller's Searching for God Knows What. which I really enjoyed but please don't ask me to tell you what was in it because at the moment I don't remember - woogy, you know.