I worked with some sicko patrons on Thursday and Friday. By Friday night my throat was feeling sore. I went to my favorite drug store and bought cold/flue medication. Today is the 24 hour mark and I don't fee better, so we know it's not a 24-hour thing. Phooey.
These drugs make me goofy enough to avoid lace and fair isle, my two active knitting projects.
So, I read. I finished "You can't catch death" a memoir written by Richard Braughtigan's daughter. Now I'm into "The Little Book of Common Sense Investing" by John Bogle. If this one doesn't put me to sleep then nothing will!