Seriously, could this cold have worse timing? (Yes. Yes it could. Please forget I said that or the universe will accept it as a dare and send me another cold at a worst time, like a year when I am finishing a book the week before Christmas while caring for newborn twins or something.) I am truly miserable feeling today, which has me entirely thrilled.

To my way of thinking, if I feel this bad now, then obviously the cold is maxing out and I shall feel far better tomorrow when I am in New Jersey, and on the weekend for Rhinebeck. Timing is everything, and I am going to be very kind to myself today to try and get well enough to get on the plane this evening. At present, I have deep and serious concerns about what happens if someone who’s head is “full” – to put it delicately, gets on a plane. Is it dangerous? Messy? Will the liquid in my head expand like the liquid in a water bottle? I keep thinking about the way that I saw a bag of chips puff up and expand when they pressurized the cabin a while ago and then doing some extrapolation and feeling the unmistakable stirrings of panic.

I’m taking myself down to the village in short order (if you see me, do not to speak to me. I am not fit for human contact beyond what is absolutely essential) and I am going to buy things I cannot live without.

1. A stinking boatload of pharmaceuticals to try and get myself to the airport. I am normally a very gentle user of these things and rely on natural means to support my health but dudes…..SCREW IT. I am going to embrace better living though chemistry and find a drug or ten that will leave me with the wits to identify my luggage while simultaneously avoiding the head explosion I feel certain will happen if I cannot reduce the amount of liquid present in my head. I am going to look for the words “non-drowsy” and “miracle cure” on the label. If I cannot find them, I may buy scotch.

2. Some buttons, because I am determined, dastardly cold or not, to have a Kauni Cardigan for Rhinebeck. I trimmed the steeks and wove in my ends.

It struck me, while I was concerning myself with these innards, that the inside of the sweater is possibly as beautiful as the outside.

When I return, buttons and drugs procured, I shall fill myself with as many cold medications as it is safe to put in me, and lie on the cool floor of the kitchen with my yarn as my pillow until it is time to go to the airport.

No problem. I can handle it. We’re going to have fun. Party on.