Summer colds and New York City kisses

Summer colds are the worst. 

Seriously. 

 

I know after an unintentional, month-long silence from this neglected space, you all are mighty impressed with my opening line...it's ok, go ahead and admit it. 

 

In all seriousness, I really didn't mean to not blog for so long.  I've actually felt inspired to babble via the written word again, but life got in the way.  Since I last blogged, I applied for, interviewed for, accepted, and started a new job.  That's a lot of change in a short period of time for a self-proclaimed creature of habit.  So, bear with me through fiscal year end insanity in the world of higher education, and, fingers-crossed, you all will be rewarded with more consistent babbling on C'est La Vie.

 

Back to my original, brilliant statement: why is it that a cold is a downer in fall and winter and is masked by allergies in spring, but royally kicks a person's butt in the summer?  Summer colds seem far more miserable than winter colds.  After unsuccessfully trying to burn this cold away with spicy cajun food tonight, I've settled in with a box of kleenex and Something Borrowed.  I love this movie (and loved the book).  A part of me feels a little guilty for liking this movie since it practically condones cheating, but then I remind myself that it really explores the numerous facets of human relationships and my guilt decreases.  This could be the cold meds talking.  Now, I could happily babble a while longer, but Dexter just told Rachel that she was all he ever thought about in law school and next he's going to chase her outside and kiss her, illumunated by the lights of a busy New York City street...time to call it a night.

 

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