Let this be a lesson to me: never blog about being sick, especially when the closing words of the post are “the end is near” (meaning the end of the sickness, not of me).

After blogging about said sickness, I returned to almost full health for a couple of days. I cleaned the bathroom, got a lot of work done, and even took the small family to Brookvale for an afternoon of cross-country skiing.

My hubris got the better of me, however, come Monday morning when the cold returned in a new a meaner form, settling in the upper reaches of my head and making me feel like my brain had turned to cotton. And the mucus, oh the mucus — my nose has been running a tap all week.

I’m back in the office this afternoon, as I’m feeling more like my head is full of dandelions than cotton (a distinct improvement), and there’s work to be done. I’m bolstered by a bracing cup of the Ginger Black Tea from Interlude. But I know enough not to tempt fate this time around, and I’m going to be home before Compass is over.

The crazy thing about all of this is that the usual vector for sickness into our family is Oliver, but he’s been the picture of health since Christmas. Catherine too. Here’s hoping they stay that way.

In the meantime, if you happen to join me in my stuffy-headed misery, buy lots and lots of Kleenex. You’ll need it.