Last night I felt off. This morning I thought I was okay but have grown steadily worse. Hello, flu.

Despite the wooziness I’ve been working all morning, and the day so far can be summed up as follows from my Facebook status updates, because I don’t have the energy to sum it up in new words:

Autumn is officially sick with the flu. Good grief, world, what are you trying to DO to me? Haven’t you seen my workload? 9:27am

Autumn just cancelled her cello lesson. She can has chicken noodle soup in bed now? 11:02am

Autumn is Oh, copyeditors, why have you left both “staffs” and “staves” as-is in the same paragraph? 11:47am

Autumn is wondering why her little mackeral tabby cat smells like fabric softener. 1:02pm

Autumn is 230/256, has one chapter left to proof, and is going to bed. Urg. 1:34pm

And this is me, off to bed. Or at least the chesterfield with the afghan and a cat. Be good, Internets.