In bed sick. I may have slept half of last night.

Gave up baking plans, after a batch of delicious buttermilk scones, (next time to be made with a bit more lemon and a bit sweeter) to watch S2 of Breaking Bad in bed with my favourite person. He made me soup. Just like he brought me the Excedrin at 730 A, and told me he'd take care of today.

I sit here, still a lump, in front of a heater, in the flannel pants and bedhead I plan to wear for hours to come. A good thing about making scones while sick, scones that are left behind on your kitchen counter, is that you have breakfast, when you need it most. The kettle is boiling. A papaya is waiting to be cut. That's as far as my plans go.