2010 looks a lot like 2009. It’s still dark much too early, it’s still grey and cold outside, and I don’t yet have a hover car. All in all, I’m not impressed yet, but I know its early days.

Follow up:

This update is late because I continued a fine holiday tradition of mine, and managed to come down with a bug just in Time for New Year’s Day. It cleverly disguised itself as a hangover, complete with headache, tiredness and a feeling that trying to think required sending brain waves through thick cotton batting. This disguise would have worked too, but I was quite certain that brie fondue doesn’t cause a hangover, and that was what I spent the last hours of 2009 indulging in.

By Sunday I had all the trappings of a good bout of sickness, including a fever. A fever is that final sign, the one true proof that you have not imagined you are sick, but are truly ill and can trumpet this fact to the world. With the thermometer displaying proof of my immune system’s weakness I did what every independent minded adult does when they are sick. I phoned my Mum for sympathy. I cannot speak for everyone, but I know when I’m sick I seem to regress to childhood. I yearn for chicken soup, soothing words and being tucked into bed. If I can’t have those things, I at least want to hear my Mum’s voice telling me to take care of myself and remember to get lots of rest. It’s not the same, but it helps.

As you might have guessed, I battled the bug and overcame it with a combination of soup, rest and much time spent in flannel pjs and fuzzy socks. A tried and true battle plan that once again won out over whatever itty bitty invader was messing with my white blood cell count.

I promise to have something more interesting to write about next week, but when one is in fuzzy socks and pajama mode, the world is just so much noise outside your window.