This flu is truly horrible. Everything hurts. My bones hurt. Don't let them tell you that your hair is dead protein.
I know better because my HAIR HURTS! Beware if you even think about the possibility of getting a haircut while suffering from the flu. You'll be sorry.
Yesterday I ensconsed myself in bed, diving under the Laura Ashley faux down comforter and breathing heavily in an attempt to ward off a rattling chill. There I hid under the covers attempting to read Barbara Kingsolver's, Poisonwood Bible. My eyes couldn't quite focus and after a short while I found myself getting dizzy, either from the reading attempts or the steamy buildup of my own carbon dioxide.
Throwing the covers back and gasping for air I was greeted by the vision of our Sahara Sand luggage, unpacked but still waiting to be stored away for the next adventure. But first I must scrub the heck of it.
I thought in the absence of anything interesting to read you might like to read the tale of the luggage from my archive.
AN OPTIMIST WITH SAHARA SAND LUGGAGE