I’ve been terrible about updating. Don’t take such behavior to heart, kind reader, as it’s really no reflection upon you: my life is essentially the same day-to-day, and while I could make repetitive posts about my activities, it would do neither me, nor you, any good to spend much time reading (or writing) such things.
My little time-keeping experiment was, suffice to say, derailed by the most nasty of headcolds: to complete something of an unholy Trinity, Mr. S provided me with a bunch of wildflowers, a Spock drinking glass (which I had been coveting since the dawn of such promotion-), and a dastardly rhinovirus. Relegated to a number of days sleeping, ingesting clear liquids (primariy ginger ale, of which – as I am told by the gracious disease-giver – reminds him of airplane rides; for when else does one drink ginger ale if not on an airplane?), and – admittedly in the most seductive fashion possible – bent over my sink, neti pot firmly penetrating my nostril. Rapturous, as one is wont to say.
A more complete update will, of course, come soon. For now, though, I reside in a tiny Moravian millhouse-cum-Inn, straddling the border of New Jersey and Pennsylvania. My return to the midwest comes in approximately four days, eight hours, thirty four minutes, and three seconds.
