Which, don't do that.

We had a blast at the Abbey-Michael Baton Rouge wedding party:

How we do #louisianastyle

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on Jan 16, 2016 at 7:29pm PST

Power of the sun. #linknlola

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on Jan 16, 2016 at 7:46am PST

A+ to New Orleans for music today.

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on Jan 17, 2016 at 3:18pm PST

Eight Dice

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on Jan 17, 2016 at 11:14am PST

Snowy egret (Bluebonnet Swamp, Baton Rouge)

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on Jan 17, 2016 at 7:42am PST

Lovely Abbey

A photo posted by Lisa Bickmore (@megastore) on Jan 17, 2016 at 10:06am PST

--etoufee, jambalaya, beignets, egrets--the full Louisiana, that's all. I highly recommend a Louisiana open house, especially one with loads of dancing. So much fun!

And then on Monday we had to get on a plane at ridiculous o'clock to come back to our regular lives. I was beyond ecstatic, then, to find myself, after having fallen asleep on the plane--miracle!--as the instigator of a sneeze-fest, which indicated the onset of, yes, wait for it, the after-the-holidays-winter-cold, my beloved annual guest.

I can only imagine how thrilled the people sitting around me on the plane were. The guy with the aisle seat (I was at the window) said bless you! several times, but then, he stopped saying it. I'm assuming his inner monologue was more like PLAGUE! CONTAGION! OUT OUT DAMNED SNEEZLE! And who could blame him? I was more inclined to blame the virus than the vir-ee--that's a thing--aka ME--in this case, but still. DAMMIT.

My supercharged plan--it seems like there's really no other kind--was to get off the plane, go home and grab another bag and hightail it back to the Arthouse Convergence conference-stroke-SLFS Board meeting. Which I did, with a short Mucinex pause. You'll be glad to know that watching a panel discussion, and then a 60s era Taiwanese wuxia martial arts film whilst riding the Mucinex high, made it extra special. And also driving up to Midway, be-Mucinex'd, in the not-quite-snowing-but-kind-of-death-defyingly-foggy weather was rather thrilling.

I helped with the strategic planning today, but last night, even though I could have watched The Last Days In the Desert starring Ewan MacGregor as both Jesus and the Devil, and even though Ewan MacGregor himself was apparently there to introduce the film, I stayed in. I watched nothing in particular on television. The historian came all the way up to Midway to watch me as I lay there and let the cold medicine have its lurgy way with me.

The upside? I actually do feel quite a bit better today. I am sure you would like my analysis of the whys, the wherefores, the what have yous of my illness, my decline, and my eventual recovery. Here they are:

My Analysis of the Whys, the Wherefores, the What Have Yous of My Illness, My Decline, and My Eventual Recovery.

1. Early flights: they are terrible. Don't do that.
2. Supercharged plans, where you get off a plane and have to do something immediately: the worst. Don't do that.
3. 60s era wuxia films for no good reason? Fine. Go ahead.
4. Mucinex? As a friend of mine once said, in the winter you might as well take it as a prophylactic measure. Truth.
5. Driving on a snowy day through mountain passes? Dicey. Probably shouldn't do that, especially hopped up on cold medicine.
6. Ewan MacGregor? I love him. But when the weather is below freezing and the cold is battling your immune system for your very soul, better stay in.
7. Sleeping in a foreign bed in another county? After three nights in a foreign bed in another state? Who do you think you are, a superhero? Go home already! Sleep in your own bed!

Stats: pre-solstice, post-teaching.

Teaching: done.

Baked goods: one cake baked; eaten. None remaining.

Illness: inevitable possible cold.

Grading: all still awaits.

Movies: two.

Mood: rainy but optimistic.

Crossword: yesterday's.

Housekeeping: que porquería.

Young men in their twenties in the house: two.

Online status: powering down.

Semester: almost, almost over.

Adjustments.

I don't know if anyone noticed this at all, but today it was very cold outside. Also, super snowy. I noticed this from all the windows in my house whence I checked out conditions whilst waiting for it to be safe for me to drive, or for the approaching hour of my first meeting, whichever came first.

Meanwhile, a mouse ran up and down the corridor, considering with apparent interest the humane mousetrap with a fresh peanut butter-coated saltine in it, without ever actually crossing the threshold of it. Without becoming "trapped," as it were. Running up and down the corridor, in plain view. All, "I love this corridor with its fresh scent of peanut butter and saltine. So much better than that cold-ass field out back!"

Meanwhile, I checked all the humane mousetraps every twenty minutes or so. I have so much faith in them! And so many mice to trap!

I'm still getting used to going outside again, after my long confinement in the House of Contagion. Very cold, for one. Snow-packed. Disorientingly bright. I need a pair of those Victorian sunglasses, the kind that protect your illness-addled brain from The Brightness.

Meeting, meeting, and the drive home. I came home to find that we had caught the (a?) mouse. I made dinner for the second night in a row, so that's something. We ate the very last one of the Chad-procured tomatoes. I let it sit quietly nestled in its bag for days and days, which turned out to be the optimal condition for it ripening to absolute perfection. We ate it with our baked penne and it was a last lucky hit of summer. The ne plus ultra of tomato, in December, on a snowy night.

Meanwhile, another mouse has been running up and down the corridor, disdaining the humane mousetrap while admiring its fragrance, congratulating itself on its excellent taste in shelter.

The sick.

Given a requisite amount of contagion and proximity to it, you might find yourself sick in bed on a Monday after the long weekend. Sick, as in, maybe I'll catch up on the last of the grading, but no. Sick as in, maybe a shower would make me feel better, but no. Sick as in, I might need to go out for a couple of minutes to mail my manuscript times six, but that made my eyes, teeth, ears and skin hurt.

Sick as in, where's the justice, the people?

In case you are planning a bout of this type of illness, here's a handy guide to the things you can do while sick, and some things you can't:

1. you can read 25 pages of a novel

2. you cannot read 2 paragraphs of a theory book

3. you can heat soup in a microwave

4. you can toast bread

5. you can make a cup of tea

6. you cannot chop anything

7. you can lay in bed with the dog

8. you cannot take the dog for a walk

9. you can watch television, but your eyes will hurt

10. you can assist your beloved with the crossword with your eyes closed

11. you cannot grade

12. you can remember when it is time to take the DayQuil Severe Cold and Flu again.

In conclusion, it is time for me to lie down again. Good night.

St. Megastore Infirmary.

It's all Advil and DayQuil around here, as the historian is feeling under the weather, my whatever-it-is-I've-got has malingered, and now college daughter came home from work with a migraine.

We are all prone. We are laid out flat by a late winter miasma, or some malevolent creeping malady-monger. Around here, we are are all sicked up.

Pray for us, or send us some soup. There's no one who feels well enough to cook dinner!*

*okay, I did rouse myself from my bed of affliction long enough to go to the store and score some random food. We ate. I just needed to whine a minute.