Feeling: iddescribabuble.
Listening to: Chopin nocturne, stuck in my head
Reading/Watching: The Pianist, which explains the above.

I've successfully caught the whateveritisnastybug that's going around, and my head is full of cotton and my throat is full of steel wool.

But I have NyQuil and hot tea and NO MORE FINALS so this is all fine by me. I have a beautiful week and a half of empty days before I head to Hometown for Christmas, and I'm thinking to fill it with Angel reruns, egg nog, reading, writing, and maybe a bit of D&D, if the boys are up for it.

I'm excited. And off to bed.

(I promise to get better so we can paint the town red on Monday, sis... or at least a very, very bright shade of orange.)

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