Mr. Darcy, I'd Like You to Meet the Competition

Water Bottle?

Check.

Popcorn?

Check.

Red Vines?

Check.

PJs?

Check.

Fuzzy "Monster" Socks?

Check.

Two week vacation from the adolescents?

Check (and a resounding, harmonious rendition of "The Halleluia Chorus").

The first half of the BBC's North and South?

Check.

This is what bliss looks like.

I swooned.

I haven't swooned in...well, ever, really. But swoon I did watching this. I blame it on the subtle, killer of a soundtrack...and perhaps that Richard Armitage as the haunted Mr. Thornton. I cannot wait until the second half arrives in the mail (though I may have cheated and looked ahead on youtube just a little bit). Should I be ashamed at the pitifulness of it? Because I'm not. What is it with BBC and the entirety of their female literary canon looking in on my adolescent diaries and spitting out films mirroring my frivolous young fantasies?

Yes, Mr. Darcy, meet Mr. Thornton. It is a toss up. No one can tell which of you smolders hottest with your brooding white heat. But oh the fun of comparing!

Now, onto the important things:

Laundry completed, presents wrapped, Christmas shopping done?

Errr...

What is it with me and colds?

I blame it on the snot-nosed kids I teach. I have my 3rd cold this year, except this one is accompanied by fever and chills and aches and what I feared was strep throat. The doctor threw that theory out the window, so I can breath easy on that one. Except that I can't really breathe easy.

So what have I been doing because I stayed home today? Read this. And felt every ounce of her unrequited misery. And felt oh-so-smart when Sue came out with it and fessed up to writing the whole thing and here I'd suspected it as fiction all along. Because what self-respecting single female would put herself out there like that? Somehow learning it was fiction gave me permission to read it in its entirety. Fiction or not, it's a fun little story to take up 2 hours. I say read it. It kept my mind off of the aches and shivers of the day. And it took me back to the angst and injustice of all my hurtful crushes.