Just when I was getting over what turned out to be a case of herpangina (an unfortunately named childhood virus having nothing to do with either herpes or heart related illness) I picked up a cold. So, in return for regaining my voice, I have lost the ability to breathe through my left nostril or hear out of my left ear. And it looks like Mym is coming down with it too, which means we’re both moaning about the house like a couple of zombies. Zombies who are still putting in 9 plus hour days at work because we’re too dedicated (dumb) to stay home and sleep it off.

I figure we picked it up off the sidewalk when we spent Sunday afternoon digging ourselves out of the driveway. The snowblower stopped working about half way through at which point we were reduced to one shovel and a waist high mountain of heavy, wet, plowed snow at the street end of the ramp. It was perfect snow for packing, but too much effort to try making a snowman out of the pile before us. It seemed such a waste not to do anything other than move it from one pile to another, so I started a snowball fight. It didn’t last long. Neither of us had very good aim; maybe because we were already feeling the burn of all the shoveling. We carved a channel just wide enough to get the car through before the light started to fail, at which point we packed it in and prayed it wouldn’t snow again overnight.

It did, but we can drive over it, so we’ve decided to leave it alone. There’s another storm coming later this week. I’m thinking we’d better stock up on Kleenex and NyQuil tomorrow before it hits.

Maybe. I went to work this morning with a froggy throat and was down to a cracked whisper by the end of the day. I tried a simplified hot toddy with dinner (honey, hot water and whiskey) and, though it soothed my throat, it didn’t do anything for my voice. The good news is that I already had a doctor’s appointment scheduled for tomorrow anyway. The even better news is that it got me out of a 5:30am phone call I would otherwise have had to drag myself into work for. Not that I don’t feel sorry for my boss who now has to make the call in my stead, because I do. I’m just saying I’d rather be sick.

It has been cold here lately. Sub-zero and windchills cold. The kind of cold that freezes your breath as it leaves your mouth and rains icy daggers of death on the children and puppies huddled in your arms for warmth. You would think this would give me ample time to write. Mostly I’ve been sitting by the fire with a hot cup of tea and a blanket and not thinking. There hasn’t been much to write about besides the cold which the locals and escapees have heard enough of and the rest can’t relate to. It’s a quiet season; a good time to rest the brain. I knit; I twiddle around in the basement; I watch a lot of movies.

Still, the snow is pretty, there hasn’t been too much shoveling and the word on the street is that we’ll have an early spring. Interesting note on that, actually. Apparently, we use our own groundhog in this state rather than taking the word of Punxsutawney Phil. I wonder if the earth would crack if they had a difference of opinion?