One thing I can always count on is getting at least two bad colds every winter. Some years, the cough goes into my chest and becomes good old pneumonia (see: college). Other times, it lingers for weeks and I literally have to carry a box of lotion tissues around with me to ward off the dreaded Red Nose (see: field hockey practice, every year in high school). This year, my cold became a sore throat, which became a doctor's visit to confirm it's not strep.
After getting a negative test and a script for penicillin, I headed to the Union Square Green Market to grab something pretty to cheer me up.
My dream is to take a floral arranging class with Amy Merrick but, short on floral arranging class cash, I improvise.
And the beautiful bundle of baby's breath I picked up last week is still going strong. There are bunches of it in various vessels scattered all around the apartment.
Let's do this, Spring. We're all waiting.