The spirit is willing but the flesh is withering away from what appears to be consumption.

I have not abandoned thee or forgotten thee, but I am without home internet service. Take pity on me. I have been reduced to the public library--a nice enough place within easy walking distance of our new abode but full of screaming English children and their semi-literate parents. "Hey, Tommy, how do you spell 'guest?' I've gotta log on to this bloody thing." Oh dear. Note to self: When one has children, one should send said children to private school.

I now fully appreciate why English novels were chock-a-block with dying consumptives. I am on English soil two minutes when I pick up this horrible eye-ear-nose-throat-and chest cold. And I never get chest colds. The damp. The horrible damp. My voice is borderline scratchy/sexy, and my head is pounding. And I won't even go into the now routine early morning blow-my-nosathons that have reached new levels of nasty. Suffice to say, I think there may be an infection.

And now my allotted 30 minutes of public library computer time has ended. Pray that our wireless is installed. Soon.