NyQuil got me through the night and back to work, and I am armed with DayQuil, cough drops, tea, and OJ. I don't know if one can overdose on Vitamin C, but I'm taking many a supplement and chugging the juice. I'm on the other side of this flu, and I hope it's gone by Thursday. The deputy is on the crazed-energy side of it and did not sleep much last night. So I heard, anyway. I was in a medicine coma. Your Sister and I are exhausted and sickly and on edge with each other. We immediately take innocent comments the wrong way. I do not want this.
She sat through two jury assemblies and may have to go back tomorrow for another jury pool. She is so far not on the grand jury or the jury overseeing the multiple-count criminal trial. I minded the boy, and he was cranky. He wouldn't sleep without a struggle. Wouldn't eat without a struggle. Wouldn't stay on the floor without a struggle. He was not my friend. If she goes back tomorrow, I'll again stay home with him, and I hope he's easier to handle. I was able to briefly baffle him into inertia by setting him in the laundry basket. I may set him into various containers throughout the day.
Last night's fever dream included me playing Jeopardy in a high-school gym, arguing with Your Sister over what kind of helicopter she wanted, and writing the lyrics to "Be Our Guest" from Beauty and the Beast.
I thumbnailed more of the comic, and it appears I'll be able to add pages to beef up the fight scenes.
Picture of the Day
Beware. A major spoiler follows.