Hack. Hack. Wheeze. Technicolor Yawn. The Runs.

Life has been terribly exciting the past three weeks. Such incidents always start with a special germy gift from school. Ms. Wee succumbs and bears up marvelously and without complaint, but the maternal heart is a gooey marshmallow under that brave suffering look.

All that cuddling, leads to my getting it, and getting it bad. Starts out innocuously enough, moves to another facial orifice, returns here, presses in there, then meanders down to the chest and proceeds to sit there and get heavier and heavier. Then cometh the fevers. And they overstayed their welcome by fourteen days.

All that marital cuddling means, Hubby turn comes, too. Hack, hack, snore, snore, snuffle. I can't remember the last time, I had a full night's sleep.

Two visits to the doctor, two emergency hospitals runs later, we each have our stash and join the pill-popping populace of the evergreen, ever-dreary, every-dripping Pacific Northwest.

If you've wondered how come Keira's scarce in Romancelandia, here's the reason why.