After four days of denial, I am ready to admit it - I'm sick. I feel like crap and so did the Intelligent Thing and canceled my lesson and went back to bed. The Husband is bringing me various foods and liquids and some homeopathic remedy that tastes like sweetened ass. I am grumpy about my plans for gardening getting nuked by my stupid sinuses.
When presented with the amazing resource of a whole bunch of Elder Knowledge And Experience right there in front of me, why on earth can I never think of anything good to ask?
I must remember never to take Beltway 8 again. It is my own personal Hotel California. "Look, kids - Big Ben!"
I still want to know what Club Tranz was, especially given the Really Short Dude with the two Really Tall Possible Ladies Of The Evening not far from it, relatively speaking. Mr. Goldstar, we are SO going in for a drink next time.