So as you know Bob the hamster was murdered earlier this week. I would like to say that Teddy feels bad about what he did, but he doesn't. In fact, every time he comes down here he sniffs around the site of the horrible event and does a little victory dance. It's all very upsetting, particularly to Bob's brother, Jeff, who witnessed the slaughter and hasn't been the same since.
But even in the face of great tragedy we must move on. Only I haven't moved very far because I've been sick. This stupid cold thing won't go away, and apparently my head has become a source of never-ending fluids, rather like that porridge pot from the fairy tale.
You remember that, don't you? You said a rhyme--"Little magic porridge pot, make me porridge piping hot"--and voilà, you had porridge. Then you said something else to make it stop. Only the greedy girl in the story didn't say the right thing and the pot wouldn't stop making porridge and eventually the entire town was drowned in the stuff.
Anyway, my head is like that.
However, there has been some fun. Today I received an e-mail from the delightful Laurel Ann, who writes the equally delightful Austenprose blog. Laurel is also a bookseller, and this week she had an encounter with a customer involving Jane Bites Back. It's very funny, and you can read about it here.
Now I need to go lie down with dogs piled around me and see if I can get some sleep. Please try to keep it down.