I could tell I was getting a cold yesterday and spent the evening watching Season 3 of The Wire and drinking tea with whisky. When I tried The Wire several years ago, I just could not follow the dialogue, but now subtitles have solved the problem of the unfamiliar slang. It doesn't seem to matter that I waited sixteen years to see it. Nothing is dated except the men's wide ties. Today I am still sorry Stringer Bell gets killed. What makes such an amoral criminal a sympathetic character? I'll miss him.
In full cold mode this morning, I took some Sudafed, my favorite OTC drug. It's great at drying out the sinuses, plus it comes with a burst of energy that makes you forget you woke up feeling like crap. But, like all good things, it eventually wears off. In the meantime, I managed to see the grandchildren for a couple of hours, do the laundry, drag a stack of boxes up from the basement and pack up the linens. Then the drug wore off and I collapsed on the couch. I don't think I can bring myself to watch the Golden Globes. I'll just look at the gowns in the morning. On to Season 4, I guess.