Depending on how you look at it, my weekend was either eventful or not. It started with me (finally) catching my wife’s cold—this started Friday actually, as I woke up feeling cruddy and was generally run down by the end of the day.

"It’ll get worse," my wife said. So I was instructed to stay laid-up as much as I could during the weekend, which isn’t really practical when it’s Valentine’s Day and the coffeepot dies.

And there must be coffee. Right? Right? So I popped over to the nearest coffee stand and grabbed a couple of cups, and later in the morning we made the pilgrimage to Costco for a new coffeepot.

Our usual Valentine’s tradition is to pick up Papa Murphy’s heart-shaped pizza for dinner and split a bottle of champagne, as a family. No, the kids don’t get any champagne, stop thinking like that. Oh, and chocolate-covered strawberries. This year, my wife and the kids made the strawberries while I napped and sniffled.

It was a nice evening, even with a cold. It’s one of those colds with sinus pressure, which is no fun, and I seem to have a stiff neck too for some reason. Not sure if I slept on it wrong or what. Beyond that it’s not so much debilitating as annoying.

Today was a very lazy day, just keeping restful and low-key to speed this cold along. I read a bit, laid down a bit, folded my laundry, that sort of thing. Now it’s 10:30 or so and I’m getting ready to go to bed pretty soon. (Normally it’s around midnight before I go to bed.)

Working tomorrow. Should be mostly fine, but in case any of my co-workers are reading this, rest assured that I should be past the contagious point and I probably sound worse than I actually feel.