So I have been sick for a few days. Actually, I have been sick for most of 2013. I was well for a week or so earlier in the month, but who can really tell. Memories are fleeting; coughs, persistent.

There is probably nothing less interesting than reading about someone’s physical maladies, especially when they are stricken with the commonest of colds, but I just really can’t do much of anything beyond the basics: haul myself out of bed, haul myself to work, pour coffee in, leave piles of stuff all over the couch. I can’t even read, really: my eyes get a little blurry after a few minutes. I’m using that excuse for why I can’t put my laundry away, too: I can barely see my dresser drawers.

I’m not even that sick, but I think the virus has gone directly to my brain. My neurons are slow. I’m not sleeping well. Someone I share a bedroom with is snoring. Someone else I share a bedroom with woke me up last night at 2 a.m. with ten consecutive kitty sneezes. It’s just a sad sneezy time over here. I might need a minute to recover. Read amongst yourselves.