Haha. No, don't worry my dedicated readership of 5 or so people. It's not going to get crowded here at momosyllabic. I am just into day nine of a flu that still has me hacking up my lungs most of the day and launching a seasonally appropriate fire of heat, unfortunately with my blazing fevery face, every afternoon between about 4 and 7. I'm viral.
As I type, Winton is in his grandparents' living room demanding dinner. It's 11 AM.
Grandma is playing with Clara's new interlocking gear game. Clara is making her new toy inchworm navigate the tracks of Winton's new train set. Grandpa looks grey from sleeping in the basement, and Husband is compulsively reading the TV guide, as one bored and seeking desperately to be transported to a place with a cup of coffee and a good weighty biography of a British politician.
Merry Xtide to you.