Not quite the last act of La Traviata

Got out for blood tests at the end of the street and dinner at an all-you-can eat Japanese place. That was about the end of my stamina. Yesterday's worrying 'stab in the lungs' symptoms turn into a dry cough and a stuffy nose, so, well- tea and toast and an attempt to read Holmes pastiche. Also ibuprofen, now that I've had my last of prescription anti-inflams.

Have to say, reading one of McCrumb's winding Nora Bonesteel mysteries makes me lonesome for Granny Weatherwax. Largely because there isn't nearly enough of Nora Bonesteel.