Inky Thinky Part Deux

Not more than 3 days off the inky thinky no cupcakes, no vodka, no lattes, no BS, and I get hit with the flu. Guess I'll be continuing the fast for a few extra days.

The good news is that if you can't leave your bed, you can't spend money. Well I could, on the internet, but I haven't the muster.

The flu is an interesting virus. One I've always believed to be violently vomitous. Turns out what we call the stomach flu isn't a flu. But the fevers, the aches, the coughing, the sore throat, all that could be a flu, or it could be a common cold.

During my fever-streaked dreams the last two days I've had time to ponder January and what it meant to me to take a month off of livin' it up.

Honestly, I don't really miss the sticky sweet of sugar, the blurred effect of alcohol, or the buzz of caffeine. Call it getting old. I'm not sure what to call it.

Now don't get me wrong. Monday night, moments before the flu hit, I got to enjoy at least two (maybe three) glasses of robust red wine at the Incanto "rancher and farmer appreciation dinner." At a table of strangers (save for Steve of Prather Ranch and Ellen of Yumm! fadoodling) we enjoyed a loverly dinner, several glasses of wine, digestives and desserts.

(These are the bones of Ellen's sardines...I heard they were delish. I went straight for dessert.)

That's what makes me certain I've got the flu. All that garlic and wine and good cheer would have chased a cold away.

Needless to say with two days at home and probably more days in bed, I may have saved enough this week's $100 budget to be able to splurge for a fancy dinner Saturday night. I can't wait! Until then, stay away from those germies.