It has been raining for five days straight. I'm cold. I'm tired. My throat hurts. My ears hurt. And I'm sitting in front of a computer screen. What I wouldn't give to be lying in front of this warm fire, huddled under a plush plaid blanket, reading Sloane Crosley's I Was Told There'd Be Cake. I don't think there could be a more delicious way to spend a wet and gloomy morning.