Mr.Q has kindly shared with me the cold that he picked up on the weekend. The cold that he got from over-indulging in the rock'n'roll fantasy, and which I, being the sensible go-to-bed-at-a-reasonable-hour wife, nursed him through. I think I have inhaled a lemon seed (don't ask - but - I'd notice if it punctured a lung, right?) And the fact that Mr.Q made dinner tonight only barely mitigates the fact that he is making me listen to Garth Brooks and Toad the Wet Sprocket sing country-ballad versions of KISS songs.
I have a very strong hot rum toddy at hand. I think I shall have to conduct some very rigorous and scientific experiments to see if it will alleviate some, if not all, of the above.