The wonderful roq dragged me out of the house and chauffeured me in a highly medicated state yesterday evening to see Stephen King speak, since I'd bought the ticket weeks prior and have only been waiting for the opportunity to see the guy for the last, oh, eighteen years or so. I'd brought along some knitting to while away the pre-wait, then shortly discovered that attempting multicolored three-dimensional pattern weaving on five different needles while high on medication makes you SEE THROUGH TIME. The talk itself was awesome and a lot funnier than I'd expected. He has the same "Oh wait wait, let me just tell you about this one time, so no shit, there we were..." syndrome that I and most of my friends have.
Afterwards barely made it home before getting hit with a coughing fit that nearly turned me inside-out like a sea cucumber. I forced down a tiny bit of food, slammed NyQuil, and fell into a fitful sleep until around 5AM, when I woke up doing the same thing and attempted the same remedy. That kept me out until after noon and I've been wandering around in a half-croupy, half-cataleptic state since then. Wheee!
...I think there was a point to this. I'm not sure. Sorry.