Blurgh.

That't the most creative title I could come up with. I'm feeling the effects of my "active" weekend in a very, very big way. I took a walk, F O U R whole houses down the street to the mailbox to mail a letter, so I did my exercise for the day. Now I am staying in bed. My incision hurts, and I'm sick. I woke up with the distinct impression that I have a cold or flu starting, which is the last thing I need, obviously. Sneezing is out of the question. It simply will not be allowed. But, my head hurts, I have the sniffles, my ears hurt and are plugged up the wazoo and I feel like crap. Even if I had any doubts about whether I was actually coming down with something, they can be immediately silenced by the fact that I'm dying for fried chicken. Since childhood, being sick = craving fried chicken. Don't ask me why, but it's true, isn't it Mom? My loving husband is making a pilgrimage to KFC while in Chico, so all should be well soon. I'm guessing that this whole cancer-and-major-invasive-surgery thing means my immune system is probably a little bit wussy right now, so I'm going to try and take extra care. I'm going back to bed now with my favorite book this hour, "Wesley The Owl: The Remarkable Love Story of an Owl and His Girl." I highly recommend it.