Cough the Air

          Like many other illustrious days of work, my day began with this conversation: "It's 8." "Fuck!" For some reason, though, days that begin crappily for me often turn out to be the most productive. My throat is sore and I'm a little sick, but I got a solid amount of tasks done, including revising our super-outdated contact list, resolving two cases, and setting up the new printer upon its arrival. I'd wanted to go with a laserjet, but timing and stock constraints forced our hand. By the time I got home from work, my throat was burning and my sinuses were killing me, so I took a long nap at Iris's apartment. Most of it was spent with a lozenge in my mouth (not fun when I woke up) and a tissue under my nose with this weird mint stuff on it, imbued with a bracing smell that clears the sinuses. Upon waking, my health seemed somewhat improved and I returned to the apartment to share potluck leftovers and hang out with Alaric, Haley, Nathan and Sean.