Wine for Being Rudolph

Sick Day #3, and I'm really over it now. I was up coughing at 2:30am, while Steve snoozed away on the airbed in the office. And I have gone through an entire box of tissues since last night, and it's only 3pm. My poor nose is now red enough to guide Santa through the thickest of snow storms.

I always wonder where, where is all that mucus coming from?? How does it just appear all of a sudden? What purpose is it serving? Why are such vast quantities necessary? What about the whole "a little goes a long way" concept?

I cleaned the bathroom this afternoon, which I am choosing to take as a sign that I am turning a corner. Like when I was young and had been sick for several days and would then start blubbering that I was never going to get better, and my dad would laugh and say that my crying was, in fact, a sign that I was getting better. So weeping and bathroom cleaning....clear signs of improvement. I hope.

I miss my class, and today we started learning about Spain, specifically Rioja and Navarra, which are known for Tempranillo and Grenacha. Spain has six different wine classifications, which makes me hate Spain a little bit, because everywhere in the world has a different classification system with different names and definitions, and I have to learn all of them. After a while I just want to cry: "Can't we just call it wine and be done with it?"

No wine recommendation again today, since I can't smell or taste anything anyway, and you, my friends, must suffer with me.