Mbot woke up just fine yesterday morning, but it turns out I did not.
Self-diagnosis: the common cold. Symptoms: scratchy throat, cough, low fever, short temper, general dishevelment, lack of creativity and, perhaps unrelated (only House would know), an urge to organize the laundry room but no energy to do it. Sitting in front of the computer after herding the Midgets through the day, I may as well be strapped into a car seat that’s not in a car for how fast I’m progressing with a post.
After several terrific starts that turned out about as well as the laundry room effort, I got the message: Medicate, bedicate.
What message is the universe sending you?