...or at least that's how it feels.
the germ was persistent, tenacious and nimble. it moved from my throat, to my chest to my nose, and required no less than four vats of chicken soup to chase it.
but it's gone now, or mostly, and i was feeling well enough to faciliate our intuitive arts circle which - oddly enough - happened to be about Dealing with the Dead.
Beloved has gone to bring his mother back to her new nursing home. meg's at a class, libby's gone to savannah for the week, and i am blessedly, happily, marvelously alone.
and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.