What time is it, boys and girls?

No, you're wrong. It is not Howdy Doody time.

And if that's what you said... you're OLD.

Sorry, but there's just no polite way to say that. Or maybe I should say no polite way that I'm willing to bother with. And why is that?

Because it's MASSIVE WHINGE TIME.

Or at least slightly-pissed-off mutter time. I may not have the energy to go full-on whinge. We'll see.

You know, I seem to recall reading somewhere that the average adult gets four colds a year. If that's true then some of you aren't pulling your weight, because I could swear that I'm dealing with a cold every second month. I seem to be getting one now, in fact.

Bet you couldn't have guessed from the whole massive whinge bit.

Yeah, my multi-day headache is developing into a sore throat and congestion. Neat trick, that, don't you think? Yesterday's visit to the wonderful world of the mobile planetarium (complete with dry air and the need to speak above the sound of the inflation fan) didn't help much with the throat thing, but at least I have the comfort of knowing that I've likely passed my cold directly on to the audience that was sharing the enclosed space with me.

Actually, I'm kind of sorry about that if it happens. Yesterday's audience was a decent one.

The plan for the rest of the day, then, is to stop at a store to stock up on my favourite thing about having a cold (oh, come on. You know. It *guarantees* a good night's sleep... or utter oblivion to the fact that you have a cold), a random logic puzzle magazine, and... erm... probably something to eat that doesn't come out of a can or an ice cream container. Funny thing about not feeling all that great: it tends to make you completely unenthusiastic about grocery shopping. I paid a whopping $25 for what was supposed to be my week's worth on Saturday, and apparently the cheap bill was the result of not bothering to buy anything that could be considered edible.

Let's hope I do better with try #2.

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Before I go, I should say that today's pointless photo does, in fact, feature a pickaxe head. Were you thinking, "that looks an awful lot like a pickaxe head"? If you were, full points to you.

Why is there a pickaxe head in the snow beside the patio light?

No idea.

That'd be another one of those ask my father questions.

There's rather a lot of those in the yard. Maybe I should make them a regular feature. Anyone up for a round of Pointless ask my father of the day?




Well, I'll think about it.