The magic that was support to happen today? Didn't. I woke up with Hubby's crud.
The sleeping in? That didn't happen either. I woke up before 7 a.m. with a fever.
The organized chaos? Just chaos. I herded up the pumpkins. The unlucky ones went into the garbage. The lucky ones await execution in the garage, perhaps not realizing their eventual fate. I took down and sorted the fall quilts--some into the laundry, and some folded to be put away. I washed our bedding (but am still working up the energy to put it back on the bed). That was the extent of the magic.
Then I slept. Then I coughed and coughed and coughed. Then I drank liquids, microwaved and ate some leftovers, drank some more liquids, took some medicine, and folded and glued a Martha Stewart paper train and train station. Then I sprayed the train cars, the train station, and my hands with glue and glittered everything. My hands turned out really pretty. Do I know how to have a good time, or what?
I wish Hubby hadn't been kind enough to share his bug with me. I have too much to do. Why can't they move the cold and flu season to a slower time of the year?