An unexpected spring cold has knocked me on my butt. A sore throat on Monday morning bloomed into a full fledged achy, drippy, fevery mess by the evening. Sweets ran out to get me some medicine. I don't know if the day version has some sort of uppers in it but I slept a total of two hours on Monday night. Just laying awake, sniffling, thinking about Hotel Rawanda which we watched before bed. Great film but probably not the best material to take in before trying to sleep. Although, Sweets woke up on Tuesday claiming he had slept like a baby and then remarked that I was really hot. Used to waking to such platitudes from my beloved, I smiled until he said, no, you're really hot. Like as in temperature. He was right. I groaned as the thermometer beeped as it pushed up point by point. At 101, I knew I needed a rest day or I'd be in bad shape. I always feel bad about staying home when I can't get anything productive done. But I wasn't in any shape to do much. In fact, I was so lazy that when I could only find one of the socks I had pulled off in the night, I only put that one sock on and stayed that way for eight hours. I made a cup of tea and ate a brownie because the pan sitting on the stove next to the kettle. Back in bed, I listened to some KEXP from Seattle. Digging around in their in studio performance archive, I found Ambulance Ltd covering "I'll Be Your Mirror" by the Velvet Underground and a next song. That soothed me. Dipping into my books to be read pile, I passed over Misfortune by Wesley Stace (better know as singer/songwriter John Wesley Harding) for now, no strength to hold the darned thing and Why Birds Sing: A Journey Through the Mystery of Bird Song by David Rothenberg because that would make my brain work too hard. Instead, I picked up Luscious Lemon by Heather Swain a high calorie chick lit confection inline with a Lifetime for Women movie. Granted, I was in the mood for something light. It turned out to deal with some heavy submect matter and I commend the author for tackling it. I'm just sort of dismayed that houses liked Downtown Press are putting out these formulaic tomes and women are snapping them up. Basic plot: Power career girl has it all, questions what she has, loses something important to her, finds new direction and is even happier. I find it interesting that as a whole, women appear to be having breakdowns by the time we're 30. I certainly have felt some pangs in the last few years myself. Career is great but it that it? Does that define me? Can't I have it all? Can I handle it all? I just can't handle these books condensing my emotions, putting cutesy art on the cover and selling them back to me.