Poor me! I am down with a cold. My husband’s working this weekend. My son is feverish. My hired help has conjunctivis. And the team has sent another reminder about the deadline for the next article. Oh I could go on. And revel in the solitary and strange joy there is in self pity. But for how long? A few minutes, an hour at most. Where’s the time when there’s work to be done and other goodies to look forward to?



