No sooner than I had typed the ellipsis at the end of yesterday's post, I fell ill. Well, I didn't fall, but I did lay down for eight or nine hours. Gut bug. I blame the conference, perhaps one of the attendees or poor food handling. Eight more hours of sleep and I'm better now. Better.
I imagined last night what it would be like if my hair grew as fast as my lawn. Of course, if it did, I thought that it should also go to seed. I shuddered at the thought. Or it might have been a slight fever.
That lawn. I should have mowed it five days ago, and even then it was too long for the bagger attachment. Now it is as long as it was the first time I could mow it this year. As is my list of other to-dos.
Soon, my impatient one, soon.
I hate getting sick. And to make matters worse, the sun is shining.
I had a plan.
And tomorrow is DW's birthday. Luckily, some forethought went into it and I'm just a tad behind. The paint is still drying.
The essay is pretty much done, although I wouldn't recommend writing under the influence of NyQuil.
I suppose I'll get to the outside work on Friday. I have plant starts and seed packets. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Must be excitement.
I'll probably know for sure tomorrow.