When I was a kid, I would meticulously document all my Christmas presents in my diary.  I liked to leave things out under the tree to be admired at leisure.  Now, I like the things that get put to use immediately.  Like this year’s #1 gift, the hot water bottle (my old one, a purple fish, started to leak).  I crawled into bed last night with tea, Emily of New Moon, the hot water bottle, a cough, the chills, and my brand-spanking new ipod.  (It’s already been dropped in a cup of coffee, so we’re well aquainted.  Now I just need to get some books on there, because how much do I love the idea of going for a walk and listening to a book?  So much.)

Eh.  I don’t remember what else I was going to say.  I want a vacation.  I’ve stolen an exra day off work with being sick, even though it means I no longer get holiday pay for yesterday (no calling in sick the day before or day after a holiday at corporate job).  Which, I understand why they do that, but I AM sick.  I’m not about to go to work and stand out in a freezing cold warehouse while I try not to hack up a lung.  It’s not my fault that I succumbed to this cold as soon as I had a day off.

At least I’ve got my hot water bottle.

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