There’s one upside to being sick, and it’s this: I’m getting a ton of knitting done.
At the state fair in August, we all made a pact to enter something in next year’s competition. We don’t have to win, just enter. I’m not sure why, exactly; it’s definitely funny. At any rate, this is what I’m entering. It’s Girasole by Jared Flood, quite possibly the best knitting designer ever.
Last night, I took a bath and started to feel better. I’m reading The Coming Plague, and learning about Ebola and the flu epidemic of 1918 that killed about half the world’s population (I may be exaggerating) kind of puts a half-assed cold in perspective. (Also, it’s weird that I ended up reading about the same area in Sudan in two books at the same time: What is the What covers that, too.) This morning, the sickness has taken up residence in my lungs. I feel fine otherwise, but when you can’t get enough oxygen, it puts a damper on scrambling the two blocks to work when it’s -8 outside.
In more pleasant news, I’m going to be sitting on a beach in the Caribbean in a month. And it will be glorious.