Whining About My Cold

I have a cold. You must now all put down your drinks and say, "Oh no, poor dear, I'm so sorry." I'm feeling excruciatingly sorry for myself and I need your support. I went to Earthfare this morning and bought honey (A says she doesn't know what happened to the honey we had before I left for NY. Oh yes, I'm so sure! That miserable dog of hers is what happened to the honey, I know it is. Either that or in a mad, sticky, honey soaked orgy she ate it all herself.) and echinacea and C-Monster juice and a spelt blackberry maple muffin which has that faintly gluey health food store taste that lets you know you are being virtuous and good to your body by eating this muffin that's approximately the size, shape and density of a 1964 Buick.

Anyway my throat is sore, my head aches, I'm sniffling and, to top it all off, I'm broke. I have to get a job immediately, preferably a very high paying job that involves a minimum of actual work. Failing that, I guess I'll go be a secretary again for a while. But right now I think I'll go back to bed.

Oh and last night I dug the last carrots out of the hopelessly overgrown garden and discovered that the peppers have all finally come in to their own and I have about a million assorted different peppers, none of which are particularly hot for some sad reason, which is a drag since it means I can't use them to make hot pepper jelly. However, I did make pasta e fagioli last night, or a version thereof, with the carrots & the peppers & it was really, really, really good. Be impressed. Be very impressed. Now bring me the kleenex & a cup of echinacea tea and tell me I'm going to get better soon.