From your mouth to God's ears, Trace.
It is important for you to know, gentle readers, that I have been near death these last few days. Suffering from the common cold as no one has ever suffered before. I knew it was coming. I knew my life style full of non-stop-rock-star-like-partying would catch up with me. There was the whirl wind, snow filled, trip to Boston. Then late night after late night watching the step-sister gamble in Vega$. Then. Then. I checked myself into an almost local hotel for a work training session. You think, Burlingame is so close to my home. I can sneak over the bridge at night and visit the tiny pets. You don't know during all that thinking how tired you will be. The HR Farm likes you to learn shit. They pack your day full of classes that use all the remaining brain cells. Then the HR Farm wants you to bond. They pack your night full of team dinners and team building exercises. After that I am too tired for the bridge and I don't really even remember where my car is parked or really remember how to drive a stick anymore.
So I got sick. The best part is my voice is going out. So I tried to work at home as much as possible. People insist on talking to you when you are in the office. "Hi Rachel, how are you feeling?" Selfish bitches. The best part is my voice is going out and I have to do a presentation for big important client on Monday. A big important client in Vegas. Oh yes, sin city, voice or no voice, I'm coming back to get you.