I am in a grumpy mood this morning. Grump, grump, grump. Not sick enough to be in bed all day, but not well enough to spend the whole day on normal stuff, and is that a cold sore in the making? Harumph. Silly me to think I could make it out of the season with a clean record.

Did the conscientious thing yesterday and stayed home from church to keep my germs to myself. Bummer, since I love our church and our friends there, but since I may have personally raised the stock value of Kleenex, wise move. Figured I'd have the day to grouch around the apartment, play Sims2, read, flip listlessly through basic cable channels and watch nothing. Nuh-uh. Hubby came home four hours early. Which means puttering. Made mistake of asking if he knew if it would rain. This means the scanner goes on and a robot voice reads weather stuff in minute details for a really large area. Also found out I was out of bottled water. About ready to scream when hubby told me the CVS on the corner was closed, so no more bottled until today.

What, then, does this have to do with reading or writing? There hasn't been time for much of either this past weekend, but the time that there is, I've been having a very nice vacation in the Georgian era. I've been getting to know Jo Beverley's Mallorens on one side of the pond, and racing breathlessly through the colonial frontier with the hero and heroine of Pamela Clare's Ride the Fire on the other. Normally I read a lot faster than this, but A) not much reading time, B) feel poopy, and C) they're worth savoring.

All of which has cemented that this is an era I can put down stakes in for a little while. When one part of my brain is entirely devoted to how many more Kleenex are in the box, another part is happily making lists of things the daughter of a prosperous London merchant would need for a betrothal party, where it would be, and why on earth is she actually entertaining the suggestion that she run away with a man she's just met instead.

Also judging my Daphne contest entries. Man oh man but I love judging...except for the moment where it occurs to me that it's eerily close to grading papers. (was an education major in college before life plans changed)