Heat turned up, muscle relaxants taken, bundled in quilts in bed. If I had my druthers I'd stay here till spring. Knees hate me, which is fine. Five more months of this and I won't *care* what happens with the replacement operation, as long as I'm rid of the crunch of bone on bone. Work is all plague all the time- norovirus and hand foot & mouth- except this time it's hitting the adults as well. So is Silliness, the details of which I haven't inquired into because I'm so tired of work Silliness. Several people are overdue for retirement, chief among them me. And my cousin Pierre died the other day, long before he hit eighty. None of my Mathieu cousins inherited their parents' longevity. Maybe because they never lived through world wars and occupations? Except they did, and the deprivations that followed. No explanation then.