Well it's not lung fever yet, [ She does sit, after carefully moving a stack of papers and folios in its exact arrangement to an adjacent surface. She drapes one leg over the arm of the chair and tucks her other underneath herself, in true bisexual disaster fashion. ] And if she'll stop toddling down the halls wearing a blanket like some aging King, we might keep it that way. She agreed to bed-rest in exchange for me getting her stuff to read.

I'll probably take her some orange marmalade to drink in hot water, too. If I can find some.