And I don’t think it’s cocaine.
And it’s very snug in there. Thank gnu for all the insulation I crammed in the walls.
But who can write when it’s snowing!
Assuming I can tiptoe past the bronchitis which seems intent upon ambushing my Christmas, I’m supposed to go give blood on Friday. Specifically, apheresis, a process whereby they take my blood, separate out the stuff they want — platelets and plasma, usually — then return the remnant to me. Will you think I’m weird when I tell you that I love doing this?