Doing my best imitation of a Victorian invalid

So, I think that the WWII course took everything out of me.  After that whole "I was so tired after giving the final that I was pretty much sleepwalking outside, and ended up with a scraped nose and a concussion" episode, I finished all the marking, packed, drove to Saskatchewan, attended a church camp, and promptly caught the Cold That Ate Vancouver Island.  Two and a half weeks later, I'm finally getting better.  Well, I had been getting better, and then had an allergic reaction to a cat, and spent a few days where I hardly could get out of bed.  So, that was an adventure.  There wasn't much to blog, since my thoughts were mostly occupied with such thoughts as "Naps after taking Benadryl are particularly strange naps," and "It is convenient that my in-laws possess a fainting couch, because I really am doing my best imitation of a Victorian invalid this week.  Sometimes I'm worried that this cold is just in my head and is an excuse to sit around on a chaise lounge and read Sherlock Holmes mysteries,* but then I try to move around and start coughing like I have consumption."

But today I'm starting to feel better.  I even felt well enough to tease the in-laws' cat (without actually touching her, since that would cause an allergic reaction), which is how Chris knew I was feeling better.  Maybe tomorrow I'll even leave the house, and start visiting people in town.  You know, since I'm IN SASKATCHEWAN and all. 

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In other news, I'm trying out Google+ now, and am still figuring out what I think about that.  If you're trying it out too, you can find me using the gmail address on the sidebar. 


* You know, it is a surreal experience reading the entirety of the Sherlock Holmes stories in the course of a few weeks.  You start noticing funny things, like how apparently everyone's response to traumatic experiences is to suffer from "brain-fever"?  What is a brain-fever?  Dramatic things happen in Prague, secret societies happen in the United States, murder is apparently okay if a lady's honour was at stake, mysterious wives come from South America, and Empire and racism are everywhere (unsurprisingly).  Also, I have trouble not picturing Holmes and Watson as Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman, but I picture Mycroft Holmes as Stephen Fry, even though the new Sherlock Holmes movie isn't even out yet.  But I digress.