There's a whopper of a thunderstorm outside.
Note the date.
Were it eight degrees cooler we would be having a lovely winter blizzard leaving us with (quickly looks up to see how much snow can be made from an inch of rain) 15 inches of snow.
I hate these practically Kentucky winters. It's nice that we actually have fall, and everything, but I would really prefer winter. And not, you know, thunderstorms.
The Boy has the flu. We wish we could get hold of a glass thermometer because we have one of those digital ones and I just don't trust it. Half the time it tells me I have a temp of 96.something. If it comes out somewhere in the normal range, I know I've got a nice fever (generally because I have every other sign to indicate to myself I have one, I just want the number as something to bandy around afterwards). I don't know what it would be like if the thermometer registered genuine fever temperatures; I think it'd be hospital time.
Speaking of which, as sick as TB is, 400 miles away, his whole family has been sharing the same thing he's got. I think he must just be having it vicariously, in sympathy, because I don't know where else he managed to pick it up. Nephew Number 4 (the four year old), went to the hospital a couple hours ago because his fever crept up into the "brain fry" region. Poor kid.