6 hours left, mostly safe.

Like my blogger buddy Sherry, 2006 dawned for me with a sore throat and a head full of yuckiness. No hangover, this, unfortunately.

Last night's party was a success, methinks. After some initial schmoozing, we rallied the troops around the coffee table and spent the rest of the night playing party games. Trivial Pursuit was a study in generational differences. We played the original edition, issued in the early '80s; not surprisingly, my parents smoked the competition. Taboo, played women against men, was a more evenly matched contest. The men eventually won, but only after I somehow I got bumped onto their team.

When midnight chimed on the grandfather clock that Steve's grandfather built, we toasted the New Year with champagne and sparkling cider. No one seemed disappointed not to be at a more raging bash, and at least from my perspective, it looked like everyone left smiling (and mostly sober).

It was only after the house cleared out that I realized it was illness, not vino, crashing around in my temples and tickling my throat. With Nyquil's assistance, I was eventually able to put 2005 to rest.

I hate having yet another cold/flu/sore throat thing this season. But if this is the One Bad Thing that New Year's Day 2006 intends to inflict upon me, I can take it.