Sunday, and the week that wasn't,

Yesterday was the first morning at my desk since Tuesday, when I started feeling poorly, and was quickly laid flat by a throat infection. By Friday morning, I finally went (with Aoife, who was very helpful) to my doctor, who diagnosed a strep throat. God sakes. Well, at least that would explain why I've been so lethargic all week, with a temperature fluctuating above and below fever.

Bribed the children with a McDonald's happy meal lunch, if I could get a morning at my desk, given Christine did a day-long bookbinding workshop.

And yes, that is a new coffeemug. Gifted by Christine at Christmas, this is the first I've used it.

It means I'm far more behind than I would like to be, of course. I've half-finished reviews on my laptop of new poetry titles by Paige Ackerson-Kiely, Rita Wong and Fred Wah, and Jessica Smith, as well as What the Poets are Doing: Canadian Poets in Conversation, edited by Rob Taylor, but it might take some doing to work up the energy to get any of those finished quickly. Fortunately, I also did a handful of reviews a few weeks back, most of which haven't yet posted, so I haven't any need to push myself too hard.

Ugh. Don't get strep throat. I do not recommend it.