Seriously, I Almost Died (But Not Really).

     Yes. I know. It's been a week since my last post. Some of you were no doubt thinking that I'd gotten bored of the whole blog thing, or maybe I just got distracted, or possibly I was kidnapped by a cult, except when they found out I was broke AND on anti-depressants they dumped me on the side of the road, and I just this minute got to a computer so I could tell you that I'm late this week because I was kidnapped by a cult. Except I wasn't. It's worse than that.

     I got the flu.

Actual photo of me with the flu.

     At least, thats what the doctor says. Personally I think it's the Plague. I mean, I'm not breaking out in boils or anything, but I have a fever, chills, cough, and it feels like somebody worked me over with a brick bat. I blinked my eyes this morning, and it hurt. I have discovered the secret to six-pack abs at 47; you cough your way to a flat stomach. And that whole burning-up-one-minute-and-freezing-your-ass-off-the-next thing is just super. 

     I'm not asking for pity, or even sympathy. It's just that I rarely get sick, and when I do I don't handle it very well. I don't have enough experience. If I had gotten black-out drunk and woke up naked in a church during a funeral service... yeah, okay. I have experience with that. But the flu? 

     So this is going to be a short post, because I have to get up and hit the Alka Seltzer Cold and Cough again, which I am able to choke down only by pretending it's a fizzy cocktail. (Actually, I do kind of wonder what would happen if I dropped those tablets into some Scotch. Later, you guys. I'm about to try something that could make me very rich. Or kill me.)