So I woke up this morning feeling vaguely apprehensive. Last night was not good; few things hurt as much as having your subconscious dish up lovely dreams that you wish were true -- or wish you could see as portents of the future -- but most definitely are neither.
I soon had more to deal with than apprehension. I was having trouble breathing; my sinuses were, and still are, plugged up. My throat is sore, and I'm running a mild temperature.
So as of this moment, it seems certain I will need to go out and buy myself a present. I'll bring it home, climb back into bed and unwrap it, and spend Christmas Eve chugging it down.
But I guess a bottle of NyQuil is a better gift than lumps of coal. Even if it isn't as nice as a bottle of Bushmills.
Ho, ho, ho.
3 hours ago