Wind is making the trees sing tonight, but failing to blow the clouds away. They drift by, revealing only patches of stars, and never a full constellation. The damp, cold gusts grab my legs with clammy denim. I don't stay out for long. My cold is trying to come back. Last night, I made the mistake of sitting in Sluggo's icy room too long, and woke with renewed symptoms. I didn't make that mistake tonight. Instead, I stayed in the nice, warm living room with the uncomplaining television set and the napping cat. Now I'm going to heat Sluggo's room and go to sleep. I don't know if the cold can be gotten rid of now. Usually, they become more stubborn and vigorous when allowed to return in this way. If it's still around tomorrow, I'm probably stuck with it for several more days. That hasn't happened for years. Well, that'll teach me to succumb to the allure of the wicked Intraweb.