Day two of the cold was no better. The first Sudafed I took had little effect, so I popped another at bedtime, only to learn anew why pseudo ephedrine is a base ingredient of crystal meth — if there’s anything more miserable than having a cold, it’s having a sleepless cold. Tonight it’s a double shot of Nyquil, plus melatonin.
Maybe some whiskey, too. My own little St. Patrick’s Day celebration.
How was yours? I spent part of it reading about Aaron Schock, whose existence hadn’t really hit my radar screen yet. What a train wreck. The mad redecorating had to be a giveaway of something seriously wrong. Downton Abbey? That show is so OVER.
Cathy Cambridge does her duchess-y duty in a spectacular coat. I was buying a coat for Kate last winter, and thought I’d found the perfect one, at Nordstrom. It was well-cut, buttoned up well, even showed off her figure a little. I was ready to order it wrapped up when I thought to grope for the tag: $900. Um, no. Cathy Cambridge’s coat is way more than $900.
Privatization means rodent cake for prisoners. Eh, they just nibbled one side — the rest of the cake is perfectly fine.
Back to bed.