Where is mrissa? Is she hanging out in the con suite accosting passersby? Nooooo. Is she listening to a fascinating panel or a reading? Nooooo. Is she browsing through the tables in the dealer's room? Nooooo. Is she getting lunch with friends she doesn't see often enough? Noooo.
She is home, putting on her pajamas and writing notes to markgritter on index cards, because she has no voice.
I am hoping to feel enough better to be back at the con tomorrow. But this is not any fun.