I'm on the mend. My son, Michael, was sick too, but never got as sick as I was (thank goodness!). I'm no longer contagious and it's easier to breathe now. Which kind of sounds like I was at death's door, but it was just a really miserable cold. Actually, two. Once I started to get over the first one, I got a second one. I'm hoping I avoided bronchitis, because I'm sick (get it?) of getting bronchitis.
But today? I actually did some writing. And I have promised the whole book, Frankenstein stitches and all, to my crit group on Monday. I'm spending most of the weekend in bed, but plan to get up tomorrow morning to go see Nicholas Cage in "Season of the Witch". He's got financial troubles, so (lucky me) he's in a lot of movies these days. (I love Nicholas Cage in part because he's one of the few actors I can recognize.)
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