Yes, that is a terrible pun. I have been asking people to share bad jokes with me, which several of you did. Thank you. Laughing is one of my best ways of working around my foul moods. Of course, right now the change in the weather has knocked down my immune system and left me with a nasty drippy cold, which isn't funny at all.
Like small children, colds and bad weather always seem to know when and where they're not wanted, and take great delight in sticking around then and there. I want to get on with Playing with Fire, to work out my newest Trycanta short story idea, to let my mind rove through new possibilities. Instead, I'm chilled, sniffly, and lightheaded.
Is this fair? Of course not. But then again, life never has been. And the weather, at least, is going to be a good bit nicer for the next couple of days... before plummeting straight back down into frigidity on Sunday and Monday. I like winter as much as the next person, but St. Patrick's Day should not involve snow!
Ah well. There's nothing that anyone can really do about the weather, except dress to beat it. As for dealing with the consequences the weather brings... chicken soup, hot tea, and a helpful dose of decongestants are going to be my best bets, I think. Along with an apology for having to hand out yet another reason why I'm not writing.
More silly jokes seem to be called for. I'll start off with one that was posted on my Facebook page, which fits the time of year: So an Irishman walks out of a bar... no, really, it can happen! Thanks as always for reading, and here's hoping that I am both able and willing to blog on Saturday, and that I have good news to share when I do!