Ils ont changé ma chanson, Ma

Urgh. I woke up this morning and mouthed imprecations at the boys, because mouthing was all I was good for: literally no sound came out. Brownies have stolen my voice in the night, the little nuisances, for whatever good it might do them. There's probably a night-market in human voices. All those audio books. It's a kind of slave labour, unless it's more like being broken down for parts.

In other news, the boys went to the vet yesterday and were pronounced healthy, if heavy. Barry tipped the scales at 14lb 3oz. That's, um, 6.5 kilos? That's too much. Even my sylph-like Mac was 12lb 7oz. We have abandoned the notion of self-regulation in the food factor, and are enforcing a different regime, where they get fed last thing before we go to bed (in hopes of not being woken at 5am by starving boys) and then not first thing in the morning (ditto ditto). It's currently 8am, I've been up for an hour and breakfast hasn't happened yet. Barry is confused. Mac has gone back to sleep in disgust. So would I, frankly, if I had the wherewithal.

On my tod

Really, all I want right now is a hot toddy - the first, indeed, in a sequence of hot toddies - and a Chalet School book. Or two.

The latter, alas, are all in England yet. The toddy is not only feasible, it's actually potential; I have bought lemons and everything. Sadly, the only whisky I have is the really good stuff, courtesy of the marquisate; it always feels a little lèse-majesté, adding things to single malt. But my throat needs the honey and my head needs the heat and every cell in my body craves the lemon, so...

I have no bitters! Of any sort! (Memo to self: it is possible to make one's own bitters. Learn that skill.)

Still. I should probably eat something first. Don't want to, but I probably should. Then I can take a glass of steaming sunshine out into the actual, y'know, sunshine. I'm English; I'm depressive; I have a cold. Whichever way you cut that, I need sun.

{EtA: s'okay, I found Jameson's. I have no qualms about drowning Jameson's in hot water and lemon and honey. And I'm frying bacon like a good boy. I can haz toddy now?]

Oh, soddit...

I need comfort reading. No can haz Chalet School. Therefore...

*takes Master and Commander off the shelf*

I'm heading out, shipmates. This could be an epic. See you on the far side of the world...