It actually is 3 a.m.

I realize it seems like I'm complaining, but I'm really not. I'm just telling it like it is.

I woke up to Cocoa fussing and whining, and Patrick coughing and repeatedly trying to clear his throat. Apparently when I'd asked Patrick last night if it was okay if I slept and would he please walk the dog, he thought I'd said what I always do: that Cocoa's been fed and walked and I was going to bed.

They've both been tended to and have quieted down. Patrick caught a cold or something from the guys at work. He called in yesterday because he'd lost his voice and wouldn't be able to make any calls. Since then he's been living on soups and teas and Tylenol Cold & Sinus and Chloraseptic lozenges. I made hot lemonade and hardboiled eggs as a postmidnight snack, and he took some Vicks 44.

There's no party, but if there were, these would be the shoes for it:


Ribbon Tie Peep Toe Shoe, £50 at Topshop

Happy birthday to me.