sickness unto death

By crikey, I am sick.

I had a preview of what I was in for as D got all sick and cough-y before I did, but either D is more stoic than I am about The Pain, or else I got a more virulent dose of The Plague than he did--in any case, what a gift that keeps on giving!

Unfortunately, I make myself worse with the hackity-hack when I lay down, so this cold has a bit of a medieval-morality-play-Dante-in-yo'-face quality to it. I have self-exiled myself to the couch so as not to reinfect D or keep him awake with my dreary litany of "cough cough hack hack, moan, cough" repeat ad infinitem.

Meanwhile, it also heartily sucks to live in Seattle at present, with the gloom-and-doom, ever grey, damned cold weather (it is 47 degrees right now. Evil and wrong, I say!)

I am knitting D a warm woolen cap out of leftover wool from his much-hyped hybrid sweater (which sounds energy efficient, but refers in actually to the shoulder shaping--a piece of knitting trivia that I doubt interests anyone but a knitting geek like myself), which he may as well wear now as in December.

As for myself, I am craftily awaiting a surreptitious stash of good old fashioned Shetland wool, etc, for my wool self-swaddling. I am finally going to attempt the Henley Neck Fair Isle in Elizabeth Zimmermann's Knitting Around. And a Moebius scarf, which never appealed to me before in the slightest, but now comes to the foreground as An Objet which I must knit. And if I may be so bold, a Snail Hat, which no doubt will make me look like a right old frigid sno-cone in winter time. (Again, more knitting esoterica which makes no sense unless you are a big a fan of Zimmermann's knitting patterns as I--and approximately a million other knitters globally--am).

In other news of the inane (very hard to write of anything of universal interest when the whole of one's senses is narrowed to "my damned head is full of snot!") Piper finally got his teeth cleaned on Tuesday last (right as I thought I was getting over my cold--useless prediction that was) which left him stoned and rather a wobbly-on-his-pins treat to watch for a couple of days. This, I'm afraid, was a rather expensive venture, and one I have been putting off for more financially fair-weather times, but alas, dental hygiene, even from a dog's perspective, cannot be neglected, and the dog really was starting to suffer.

I am not much good for conversation these days, having lost my voice about Thursday. I retreat to a pile of knitting and the hopes I will turn a corner in this dread disease soon-ish, rather.