O.K., whatever's going on with me, health-wise, it sure isn't a cold. As yesterday progressed I felt increasing yucky and by the time Brainiac returned home at about 8 p.m. I was a wreck. Wearing two (ill-matched) sweaters and three pairs of socks, I shivered as I asked him for a back-rub to alleviate the aching. He tucked me into bed with a Tylenol PM and a glass of Sprite, electric blanket set to "7" around 9 p.m., where I tossed and turned until about 2 a.m., when finally I fell asleep. Along the way, I spiked a fever of over 102. And this morning's headache, well, let's not even discuss it.

But now, after liberal applications of coffee, Excedrin Migraine and Day Quil I feel as if I might live. I'm grateful, but also puzzled - the trip into sickly despair and back has been fast and what I thought was going to be an impossible day is turning out to be just a garden variety mommy-doesn't-feel-well howaboutmoretv kind of thing. Much better than I had anticipated.