unsocialite

 My fucking throat hurts so much that I can't sleep. Lying in bed. Hurting.

Made Mulligatawny soup tonight for tomorrow's lunches and the house still smells a bit spicy.

I should read some of the mountain of books on the bedside table. 

Zzz...there, that did it.

Today we're going to my SIL's house for a joint birthday celebration for her kids. It's about an hour's travel time, and the party is in the afternoon, which means the day's a write-off. Worse, SIL isn't a good cook, so we might have to do like Christine Baranski's family in The Ref and eat a meal en route before we show up.

I predict that the kids will play together and the adults will be divided into two camps: those playing on devices and those having analog conversations. I will probably be outside these camps, sitting in corners pretending to chew carrot sticks with great mental absorption.