So the last time you heard from me when I wasn't bitching about the Constitution, I had quit my job. That was in early December. A lot has happened.

The Quitting. Quitting my job wasn't as difficult as I expected. I was sad on the last day, but I was sort of . . . invigorated, too. I had a very nice little happy hour in my honor the day before I left, and when I was out the door, I think I breathed deeply for the first time in several years.

The Flu. Two days after I finished the old job, I went to visit my sister and her family out east. The night before I left, I realized that I had a tickle in the back of my throat that suggested I might be about to get a cold. By the time I left, my throat hurt. By the time I landed, I had a full-on cold. That day at S's house, I was amazed at how cold she kept it. Why was it freezing in her house, for God's sake? I was sitting on the couch watching TV with a blanket over me, and when I got up to go to bed, the minute I let go of the blanket, I was so cold that I was in full-body shivers the whole way up the stairs. I got into my pajamas and a sweatshirt, and I was under two blankets in her guest bedroom, and under the blankets, I was shivering. Five minutes under the blankets . . . fifteen minutes . . . half an hour, and still suffering periodic deep shivers all the way to the bone.

The next day, I felt like I was approximately three-quarters dead. Wow, this was the worst cold of my life! I sat on the couch, grumpy as hell all day, partly because I couldn't play with Little A and Little B, not wanting to make them sick. That afternoon at around 4:30, my sister said, "Well, have you taken your temperature?" "No," I said miserably. She felt my forehead. "Oh, my gosh," she said, and went for the thermometer. 103 degrees. Oh. That's why I wasn't feeling well.

For about three days, I felt like I would never get up again, and then for the next two weeks, I generically felt like crap. I was at S's for about ten days, so when I took the flight back to the Twin Cities, I was still completely miserable, resulting in the most painful landing experience of my entire adult life. The pain in my head and my ears was genuinely excruciating.

The Holiday. Even though I was sick, we had a very fine holiday. I got to watch Little A and Little B open a seemingly unending stockpile of presents. They especially liked everything that allowed them to make things crash into other things (the new racetrack with the windup cars, for instance). We ate Christmas cookies, I watched the Heat Miser and the Snow Miser, and on Christmas night, Pool Boy and I sat on IM for five hours, doing nothing except, you know, plotting against our enemies, I guess. It was just how a holiday should be.

The Vikings. You know, speaking of Pool Boy, those of you who follow the weblog may have seen that I was mercilessly blamed for the fact that the Vikings lost their last game of the season. I was called away to dinner right before the Vikings managed to throw away the entire game, and Pool Boy somehow concluded that I was solely responsible, because I cursed them. He has just recently -- and I am saying in the last couple of weeks, and this was Christmas -- stopped bringing it up. Sigh.

The Writing Stuff. Well, let's see. I wrote about Captain Kangaroo and TV boyfriends for MSNBC. I started recapping The Apprentice for TWoP, and then Survivor: All-Stars started, and then Deborah said a final "whatever" to The West Wing and I picked that up, too, starting this week. So that's three shows a week, at least until Trump runs out. As if that weren't enough, I wrote about the three Survivor tribes for the January 19th issue of TV Guide. Oh, yeah, that was pretty cool. Among other things, nothing impresses the folks like seeing your name in a magazine they get anyway.

The Pub Quiz. I have now been to the famous Pub Quiz -- oh, you've heard about it here a bunch of times -- twice. Once, we tied for, like, fourth or something, but this last time, we came in third. It's a good thing someone knew ABBA songs, because I certainly didn't. I actually know very little, as it turns out.

The Three-Day Work Week. Ever since I went back to work at the new job at the beginning of January, I have been on a three-quarter schedule, which I work in three ten-hour days per week. That means I do not get up and go into an office on Wednesdays or Fridays. I stay home. And I write, usually all day. Sometimes recaps, sometimes something else. Or I go to the grocery store. Given the fact that my TWoP shows are Thursday-heavy, Wednesday is often my best day of the entire week to relax or go to the post office or take on a new project. Wednesday: It's The New Weekend. If you ever, ever, EVER have the opportunity to work a reduced schedule with flex time, I cannot tell you what a difference it will make in your life. Only having to deal with an office environment has done wonders for my sanity.

The New Job. The new job is tremendous. I am happy, I am good at it, and my boss calls me a "pit bull." Today, an opposing attorney came over to me to tell me how good he thought I was, and he actually patted me on the arm. He barely restrained the "pretty good for a girl" remark that was lingering on the tip of his tongue. Don't get me wrong -- this does not bother me. He got his ass thoroughly and totally kicked, I am here to tell you, and he was frightened. "Patronizing" was really his only option. I love this job, and not only because I only do it three days a week.

And there is a happy P.S. to the job news, as well. You may recall that the one thing I left at my old job that I had a very difficult time saying goodbye to was my fine friend Snowmobile Boy, whom I have told you about many times. Snowmobile Boy has now left the old job, and is coming to work at the new job. It's a coincidence, for the most part, but a lovely one.

As if that weren't enough happy Snowmobile Boy news, he has been most joyfully promoted to Snowmobile Daddy, and I got to meet the illustrious Snowmobile Baby just this weekend. I am told that S-Baby cries a lot, but quite frankly, I've seen no sign of it. I think they're just kidding.

The Reading. I'm going to be doing a reading in New York on the night of March 18th. There will be more details to follow, but if you're in the area and might be interested in hearing me and some other folks read some stuff, stay tuned.

The Rest. It's good. I'm happy. There are things, as there are always things, and I have my moments of melancholy. But for the moment, I am forced to admit that it's all going just the way it's supposed to.