Under the Weather

Not feeling too good this weekend. Had a tickle in my throat all week which migrated south to my chest Friday night. Kept me up all night coughing. Slept and sweated through many hours. Fell asleep in the bathtub. Read a book on Hitchcock movies. Watched the rock opera Tommy. Had many strange dreams as a direct consequence.

A lot to comment on but I just can’t get focused. I want to say something about Obama winning the Nobel Prize. Father Damien of Molokai – you know, the missionary who ministered to the lepers in Hawaii – has been declared a Saint. Why the NFL pregame shows insist on spending 45 minutes on the Dallas Cowboys and 15 minutes on the rest of the league. An ignorant, half-formed comment I want to make about Kant. A potential job opportunity. George R. R. Martin. And on and on.

I am on the upswing, though. The hacking cough is gone, but the fatigue and congestion is still there. My hands are completely dried out since I’m washing them twenty times a day so I don’t spread anything to the girls, who all seem fine. My wife has been excellent, shouldering all the household duties and feeding me chicken soup, blueberry juice, and pharmaceuticals.

Hopefully something of substance, interest, or both, tomorrow …