Yesterday’s sniffles and sore throat blossomed into something much nastier last night. We had to do groceries for Ed’s upcoming road trip, and I must have looked just awesome – a sniffling, dripping mess who could barely stand up and was seriously thinking about throwing up in the canned fruit aisle. I made it home and collapsed into bed, and many hours later I am still here. I would probably feel better if Lemon wasn’t trying so desperately hard to make sweet love to my MacBook, but we will both live.

Ed is on his way to Edmonton. He planned to leave this morning around 4am, but that was some mighty wishful thinking – he was on the road by 7, which is still plenty early. As of 10am he was in Kamloops. He should make fairly good time there, since I’m not in the car – I tend to have to pee every 100km or so.

So, I’m home alone and sick and bored. Bill Kurtis is on my TV telling me about American Justice, Lemon is pissing me off because I’m cranky and don’t WANT to be bitten, and there is no one to fuss over me and make me feel better. There’s really only one thing to do: read Cosmopolitan. That’ll help, right? I can learn such life-changing things like:

• 15 date ideas he’ll be into
• How long guys want sex to last
• His Body: the non-verbal clues that let you read his mind!
• How to be just bitchy enough
• Outrageous things chicks do in bed – like the crazy hot firestarter technique

Oh yeah. I’ll be feeling better in NO time, and will be a sexual dynamo to boot! Thank you, Cosmopolitan magazine!