This would be a "real life > computer" sort of a day if I were feeling well—the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the garden is springing to life. The goats are cavorting like kids and the mule is rolling in new places where he's never rolled before. Toes in the grass, faces in the sun. Sounds good, except that R and I are home sick with a gross cold that's had us down for too many days in a row now.
Worse, though, is my husband's conundrum—not only does he miss out on sitting in the sun (phlegmy or not) but he, too, is sick. He's working, tiling a bathroom or building a cabinet or some such business, and he's probably doing it with this same sore throat, throbbing ears, and pounding head.
I'm great at self-pity, but today I'll pick myself up and say that I'm lucky to be a working-from-home, sunny-farm-dwelling sick mother of three. There are worse places to sit with a box of kleenex and a cup of tea than here in my office window, the glorious sun streaming in.