Yes, I am solely responsible for the existence of MRSA.
I want to say something profound about this experience but really, there is nothing profound about mucus.
I am just so tired. We have our annual church day of prayer tomorrow and I have never felt less like praying. I know that the less I want to pray, the more I need to pray, but I'm worried that the moment I close my eyes I'll fall asleep and snore. Also - speaking seriously - at the moment I am finding it so hard to deal, spiritually, with the chronic discouragement of the everyday. I have wrestled with God over Big Things several times in my life and always come out so much stronger in my faith, so much closer to Him. But thorns like this lingering virus and attendant exhaustion and the thousand tiny inconsequential dramas of life seem to shred my soul in a way that nothing else does. I need to take my eyes of myself and focus on Jesus but I'm struggling. Those of you who are Christians - if you want to pray for me, please pray about this.
On the plus side, my hair is still bouncy, thanks to the ministrations of my wonder gadget. Several of you have asked for proof so - it's surprisingly hard to take a picture of your own hair, but here it is. This picture is only impressive if you know what a frizzball I usually am, so you're going to have to take my word that for me, this is as sleek as it gets.
What? You want my autograph because you think someone this glamorous must be famous? No problem. Five bucks.
Anyway. I'm half-way through a book review that I want to share here, but I'm too fuzzy-headed to do it justice tonight. And seriously, people. It's eight thirty.
I'm going to take some more drugs, and then I'm going to bed.