The Snarks have been unbelievably sick these past few days. Snarky began showing signs of not-quite-rightedness during the Asheville leg of their North Carolina circuit of Ought Six and has since gone through losing her voice, running a mild fever, eye-watering sinus pressure, and persistent, hacking, non-productive coughs (the worst kind!).

The Mister's symptoms appear to be on almost exactly a 48 hour delay from Snarky's.

The biggest problem, besides having slept for almost three days straight (what New Year's celebrations?), has been the phelgm induced anosmia. Even if the Snarks were to get hungry (which is a rarity given their complete lack of activity as well as their sneaking suspicion that snot has been draining directly into their stomachs this whole time, which, yeah, ) they can't smell anything well enough to taste it.

This is a great and terrible curse for foodies, which is just a less sexually suggestive name for what the Snarks really are, which are hardcore, dyed in the wool sensualists. (Snarky doesn't really know what "dyed in the wool" sensualists are like, but she is enjoying the mental image of drifts of alpaca fleece being soaked in a vat of deeply crimson dye)

What did the Snarks eat this weekend? Two frozen pizzas. With nothing added to them. It just seemed like a waste to add the usual tangy/zesty/cheesy additional toppings they usually do with their "cheat, heat, and eat" meals. Why bother? It was all just so much texture in their mouths, and nothing more.

So sad!

Which reminded Snarky about the last years of Michael Hutchense's life. He was never a role model for Snarky, but she felt a certain affinity with his public image. He was probably the prettiest man at the time to give her funny feelings in her tummy. When she found out about his head-trauma induced anosmia, she couldn't imagine the anguish he must have felt.

Side note: the step-sister-in-law's new boyfriend earned points with Snarky by going into a rather detailed discussion of how he possesses a very particular kind of synasthesia - he smells in colors. She left him an imp of Tombstone to see if it came up as a rusty cream with evergreen edging.

Anyways. The DarkityFam is still scheduled to begin showing up starting tomorrow night. Snarky thinks she'll be almost human enough to host, though the house is an utter and complete shambles (which will give DarkityMa something to keep herself occupied, if nothing else). The Mister will probably be pretty wrecked, but they will manage. Interesting start to the new year, indeed.