After working hard all week I went home anticipating a lovely three-day weekend... and by Saturday afternoon realised I was coming down with a horrible head cold. Despite this I went to Yair's birthday dinner on Saturday night, and Joe's BAMM graduation on Sunday, and to Fry's with Jim on Monday, where I cleverly managed to buy the first Prisoner DVD without him noticing, and was thus able to surprise and delight him by presenting him with a box containing the first & second DVDs a few hours later. Around all of this I slept, communed with kleenex, read books, slept, watched lots of Hana Yori Dango, and slept. On Tuesday Jim went to work and I stayed home, curled up in bed with many books and an occasional angora. This worked wonders for my cold, which is almost gone, but here I am on Wednesday with a project I'd like to finish on Friday and no motivation or inspiration. Why work so intently and intensely if all I get out of it is four days of illness? My logical brain knows that these two things aren't connected, but that knowledge isn't yet doing me a lot of good.

And ... it's time to go to Millbrae! Perhaps while there I'll convince myself that I can concentrate on work and not end up losing my entire weekend.