The final game of the Scott Tournament of Hearts went into an extra end yesterday afternoon. Team Canada won for the third year in a row. You didn’t get exciting updates end-by-end this year because it was a Sunday, and I’ve ruled that I will not sit down at the computer over the weekend, not even to check my e-mail, because I work on it all week. I think it’s a good rule. It helps me feel more relaxed, which is rapidly becoming perhaps the most important goal in my life at the moment.

I’ve also been drop-dead sick, which doesn’t help at all. It started Thursday afternoon – the fever, the golf-ball feeling in the throat, the blinding headache that just won’t go away no matter how many headache candies you throw at it. I had to cancel a dinner with Ceri, which we’d both been looking forward to. Friday and Saturday weren’t much better. Fortunately, my students were remarkably understanding regarding my lack of energy and focus.

What frustrates the hell out of me is that we’re moving this Saturday, so the original plan was for me to be in a packing frenzy all this week. The problem? I can’t stand up for too long without falling over, let alone do the reaching-up-and-placing-in-box motion of packing. I tried last night while my husband was chipping away the net of snow and ice trapping our car out in the winter wonderland called Montreal. It was a mistake.

I hate feeling so damned helpless. I hate it at the best of times, but at a time like this, it’s even worse. So I’m cranky as well, which doesn’t improve matter at all.

The final twist of the screw: My mother is is the Dominican Republic, soaking up sand and sun. Grrr.