The Grims

Had to cancel pretty much everything over the weekend except the old friend's birthday. Dosed myself up to the nines, had a great time. Much nonsense was spoken. In the gin-fueled game of 'Who are you in each universe?' I was respectively Indiana Jones, the BB8 and Captain America, very cool, though not nearly as cool as Mr Eagle ('flight to Mordor? You had only to ask.') and Wrong-Grail-Guy, who deserves his own T-shirt.

Then we came home, and since I have snuffling like a hog, saved only by this weird mallow and thyme concoction that appears to stop me coughing by glueing my throat together. Work has happened, weird drowsy dream like work that I have to stop, I can't even read much of what I'm doing. But sleeping in the day is so dull. I can't even get the house tarted up for Halloween.