Alrighty, now.
I got off the computer after checking my email, and read some (this really great mystery by Rita Mae Brown, Full Cry. I tell you, I am learning so many foxhunting terms, they are coming out my ears.)
Okay, and my Parental Unit #1, otherwise known as my mum, said, and I quote, "That's it?? Aren't you going to get on the web? Aren't you going to blog something? Even if it's just a sentence, it'll be worth it."
And I suggested this: "Tired: the new me."
And to this, she said: "How about 'what a bitch my mum is. She's making me take a thousand supplements a day that make me gag, and this awful fish oil that makes me feel like throwing up, and whenever I am nauseated, she foists ginger tea or water on me, whichever is closest.' How about that?"

Well, yeah, she does make me take a thousand supplements a day, and she does make me take fish oil (awful, terrible, horrible stuff), and, true, she does make me take ginger tea, because it is good for nausea, but she is also making mac'n'cheese, and milkshakes, and choco-coco treats, and peppermint tea, and bacon, and Oatmeal, and stuff.

What can I say? My mum truly is the man.