I came back from TonnerCon with a vicious cold, y'all, possibly right from Robert His Own Self (he did warn everyone he was sick, but I still insisted on getting into the Contaminant Zone twice), more likely from spending four days in a hotel with people from many different places with different strains of cold viruses. In any case, I'm sick. I can barely talk, I'm breathing but I'm not enjoying it, and I hurt in every cell of my body. Every. Single. Cell.
It just occurred to me that I should provide for Martie's bequeathment in my will. I do hope that was not a foreshadowing thought..... @_@ Yeah, probably the NyQuil talking.
BTW, no, Martie does not have a cold. That's the advantage of being made of plastic.