License to Ill

So. PERfect timing. I am ill.

It started yesterday afternoon, after spending a day with niece and nephews who had been ill earlier in the week. What they had had was some sort of debilitating stomach virus, but I seemed to have gotten the Beta version, a little head-stuffiness and a weak but persisting sense of nausea. The vital result of this was that I stayed home while the Wifey went out to meet our film club people to see "The History Boys," which they quite liked, thence out for Brit food at a place near the theater (about which more in a moment), which was good for them. I stayed in, drank white wine, and watched a pretty bad movie and then a pretty good movie and then a better movie, feeling alright as long as I had my consciouness precariously balanced between the wine and the television. Which is what TV is really for, really.

The theater was in a part of town called Myers Park, where the property prices are ridiculous. The Wifey left the rest of the party a tad early, and walked back to the theater, about two and a half blocks, by herself, in the dark of night. She remarked this morning that she did so hardly fearing for her life at all. Which is why, we concluded, the property prices are ridiculous. Not that it actually is measurably safer over there per se, but I grew up there, and it sure does feel like it.

So off we go to the fasmily Christmas Eve part, this year being held out in the sticks. Errrp.