As a dog...

Sick, that is. (And what's the origin of that phrase, anyway? Are dogs really sick??)

Yes, I've finally fallen victim to the respiratory/flu crud that's been sweeping through my workplace. I'm amazed it took this long; usually, I'm like a magnet for whatever hideous germs are floating around, and get sick if someone looks at me the wrong way. So, yay for my immune system, for holding up as long as it did.

But this thing is a doozy. I spent about 17 hours in bed yesterday, and could have slept more, I'm certain... but it seemed like I needed to get up and make sure the world was still okay. I don't expect to leave my apartment at all this weekend.

Christmas, by the way, was lovely. Started with a lavender/sugar scrub at a very nice spa, where one of the gayest gay men I've ever met (and that's saying a lot) exclaimed, "I LOVE to scrub!!" when he was leading me into the treatment room. He must, because he's really good at it. Then I had a lovely massage. The whole experience left me feeling like I was in a comfy cocoon.

And then I had the most amazing meal ever, prepared by some more lovely gay men in their amazingly lovely home. Great food, great wine, great company... what more can a girl ask for on a holiday?