UGH! It's Friday!

I had a lot of plans for today. I was going to get my haircut, get some groceries, and work on fixing the stupid Amazon links for my books. That last one is incredibly time consuming. In fact, my formatter has been waiting for a month for me to fix the back matter file for the Amazon ebooks.

But as I was writing about two a.m., I started to get the weird tickle at the back of my throat. You know the one. The weird feeling that signals viral warfare has begun.

Yep, DH gave me his cold.

So, I'm working, but it's at a quarter impulse speed, not maximum warp like I've been doing for the last two months.

And to top it off, the attack tribble bit my ring finger last night. I don't blame her. She hates getting her hair trimmed, and she doubly hates anyone touching her head. But since she's a Morkie, her hair grows continuously.

Seriously, she's gone from looking like Chewbacca to resembling Cousin Itt. I let her hair grow during the winter months to help keep her warm. However, this winter has been so warm, she didn't need the extra hair. But she also doesn't need a hairball blocking her digestive track either.

I started by trimming the hair around her eyes so could see. Then I worked on her moustache and beard so she's not eating her hair with her kibble. And Bella lost her patience. She bared her teeth a few times and nipped at me twice without connecting. A warning she's had enough.

And I stupidly ignored her signs of distress because I wanted to get the task done before we went to bed.

So she bit. Hard. Hard enough her canine tooth broke through my nail and drew blood. I had to walk off the pain and the anger at myself for pushing the matter while DH consoled her.

When DH put Bella down on the floor, she slunk over to me in the kitchen where I was washing the wound with antibacterial soap, absolutely sure she was in trouble. She wasn't, and I spent a good chunk of the rest of the night reassuring my poor attack tribble that I wasn't mad at her.

All this while I'm still recovering from some very minor surgery. My doc removed a suspicious skin growth. My dad had skin cancer, and I grew up on a farm where we never used appropriate sun block. Needless to say, I don't take chances with that shit.

So I'm in my recliner with a headache, a sore throat, and bandages covering various spots.

At least, the taxes are done and sent in before everything hit the fan.