What condition my condition is in

Not good. The cold has turned into a cough, which decided to settle in my chest last night. This cannot be allowed to happen - too much work on my plate. But better now than next Wednesday, eh? So I'm home poppin' pills and downing as much hot tea and chicken soup as possible. I'm on my way back to bed, but I did find these little nuggets before caving in completely to consumption:

The British Whitbread literary shortlist has been announced. No Julian Barnes or Ian McEwan or - gasp - Zadie Smith. Nick Hornby and Salmon Rusdie are kickin' it, though.

The judicial blogger of Underneath Their Robes has been outed. Gonna make facing those judges he made fun of pretty - um - unjudicial. Seems all along everyone thought "he" was a "she." Another blog-lesson learned, right?

Sometimes - most of the time, in fact - kids teach us all we really need to know. Nice little tale on CNN/CareerBuilder about lessons learned from one job seeker's six year old son.

That's it from me - cough! cough! hack! hack! And don't think that dining room's not screaming "If you're home you should be painting me!" right now. Sniff. Putting pillow over head and rolling over . . .