I came home from Topeka earlier in the week sicker than a dog. I should have recognized the trouble that I'd had sleeping at the hotel for what it was: the onset of a cold. I'm doing much, much better now, the result of doing practically nothing on Wednesday and Thursday. Meaning, of course, that now I have a huge backlog of work that needs doing, most of which will need to get done next week. But, that's all right.
I'm in a particularly good mood thanks to the White Sox winning the World Series for the first time in 88 years. A four game sweep of the Astros. Man, it's great. I realized that there are people in my life who never saw the Sox win a World Series, chiefly my father-in-law, who was born in 1916 and thus wouldn't really remember the champions of 1917. Mary jokes that he would only let me marry her because I was a White Sox fan. In fact, one of my fondest memories of Joe is going to a Sox game with him the summer before Mary and I got married.
Hm...not much more to report, except that we are three days away from NaNoWriMo (or four, depending on how you count them). Everyone ready?