*sniff*

Before I get into the angsting-about-winter part, Wellingtonians, you are hereby invited to casa mea this Saturday for my Goodbye Wellington party. Email me if you aren't a creepy stalker and I'll happily give you the password.

Now, the semi-moaning part. See, I'm not sniffing about leaving Wellington - not entirely. No. Like every other person in the country, I've got a cold. A few weeks ago a friend made the sweeping generalisation that everyone is either breaking up, having a baby or has the flu. At the time I had a cold, and now I have an even worse one, so I tend to agree. Which one are you?

My codral dependency was getting too expensive and I have ongoing concerns about the state of my stomach lining, so today I went it alone. And what do you know, I soldiered on just the same! I sniffed, blinked and mouth-breathed my way through the day and it went by just like any other, apart from my nose being rubbed raw with evil sandpaper-tissues. My productivity topped the 5-hour mark, always an achievement, and my boss told me that he's impressed with my "positive attitude" - aww! As usual I was unsure how to respond to a compliment so - as usual - I changed the subject and asked him to write me a reference.

Wouldn't you know it, he told me to write it myself.