I have a cold. This happens often when I make the trip this direction. An airplane is a flying metal canister full of germs. Plus, the climate change is so extreme – from bitter cold where nothing can live to a mild spring and festival of pollen – that my head is transformed into a petri dish in no time. Yeah, I’m cranky about it, but I’m still happy to be home.
I’ve spent the weekend visiting with my people around the city – they’ve stopped by or I’ve wandered around to their respective homes to say hello and oh did I miss seeing your friendly face. Yesterday afternoon I went to SUPA to play the uke and hang out with the ukulele brethren and sisters. Today, I’m staying in, drinking tea and taking vitamins, and waiting for the return of the furnace repair guy. He shows a determination to fix my furnace once and for all (perhaps with a sledge hammer) that I appreciate.
I’m also gettng reconnected to my work projects. The thing about working at home, good or bad, you decide, is that you can work all the time. This means that if you’re sick, you can squeeze in little bits of things here and there without having to get dressed and go to the office. I’m for that, actually. It means I won’t fall too far behind in spite of the demands of the proto-civilization that’s taken up residence in my head.