At the end of July, I caught the flu. I rarely ever got sick, but this bug laid me out flat for about a week. Liz held down the fort while I huddled on the couch at home, watching daytime TV. Insert gun barrel into mouth. Pull trigger.
My head was foggy most of the time anyway, and there was only so much of Judge Judy I could take. Voldemort was fed no matter how shitty I felt, because I couldn’t handle any evil spells containing flying fur balls right then. He kept to his comfy cat bed in a corner of the living room, mostly, except for the one time he decided that sleeping on top of my head was preferable. Until my coughing fits and sneezes scared him away.
There were used tissues all over the floor, and I was sick of soup, but that was the only thing I had the energy for right then. An
