Well, the peanut butter and cement that filled my head all day Thursday and for the better part of this morning have alchemized into a seemingly endless supply of raw scrambled eggs (both albumin and yolk liberally represented) which are gradually dribbling through my sinuses. I don’t have any Kleenex on hand, but I’ve managed to go through two full rolls of toilet paper.

Despite skipping out on work again today (Paul didn’t want to risk rush hour after last night’s seven or so inches of snow, and I was only too happy to volunteer to stay home sick again in an effort to prevent his potential traffic disaster — although this means I’ll have to work on the newsletter over the weekend), I made it to the Seldom Seniors show tonight at the Birchmere. Excellent bluegrass, played by guys who have been at it for decades, although I think I dug the Jerry Douglas show last month a bit more. Maybe it’s the fact that I tend to like people who build on or deconstruct tradition more than those who just work within it — although the Seldom Seniors had room for covers of stuff by Jerry Garcia & The Ventures.

Are BBQ pork ribs good for a cold? I dunno, but I guess I’ll find out . . .

In the morning, I’m heading to check out a possible new apartment in Alexandria, in the afternoon I’m setting up Kimberly‘s DSL at her new studio, and in the evening I’m watching the reportedly-excellent play “I Am Jane” — a Saturday without movies seems incomplete, though. I guess I’ll have to catch something on DVD or cable late tomorrow night.

Oh, and don’t believe everything Justin says. I never got any virtual chicken soup . . .