This cough/flu/plague is just relentless, I tell ya. Despite my very best hopes that it would have disappeared by now...alas...I am still decidedly unwell.
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There are plans afoot, however, for a perfect Spinster Sunday.
If the weather cooperates (which I hope it doesn't), I will go outside for some mandatory fresh air. Rich is convinced that a longer and healthier life is guaranteed with 30 minutes of the e-word every day, and I am convinced that I was built for comfort and not for speed. That's OK...despite my protestations, I know he's right and need to (pardon my languange) get off my duff.
I think I have a relatively quiet week ahead before all h-e-double hockey sticks breaks out next. For some strange reason I decided to schedule every single one of my annual medical exams all at once, so Memorial Day week will be filled with tests and appointments.
Better enjoy the peace and quiet while I can!
The Chicken Sisters are off on another adventure. I thought they might head to a quiet little cottage at a lake, but rumor has it they were spotted in the infield at Pimlico yesterday. I intercepted this message on their Facebook account this morning:
"Hey, Josephine and Eleanor! Great partying with you! Next time, we'll bring the Fireball! Can you believe Petey in that mud pit? Chuck says sorry about the rental car..."
If the old gals show up with bits of racing forms still stuck in their feathers and the phone numbers for these guys...we're going to have to have another talk about comportment.
So that's the report for the day, Dearies. I hope your very own Sunday is full of everything you want, like damn good, all the things, and stitching...and nothing you don't, like coughing and misbehaving chickens!