You may have noticed that my postings have gotten sparser and even more superficial than usual as the week wore on. It wasn't the vacation. Spending a couple of hours a day cruising the Internet and taking pot shots at the day's events didn't seem much like work.
It was the flu -- an intense version of blessedly short duration, as my brother's doctor explained. Larry was exposed to it sometime before I arrrived in Texas and started showing symptoms soon thereafter. And I caught it from him. As he was getting better, I was getting worse. Nothing says "stay away from this house" like two people coughing, wheezing and making grumpy-old-man noises hour after hour without a woman around to say, "Oh, grow up and deal with it."
There were a lot of conversations like this:
"I need to go blog."
"You just did that."
"I need to lie down."
"OK. I need to feed the cat."
"You just did that."
"I need to lie down."
"OK. I need to lie down."
"You just did that."
"OK."
I'm home now, delivered by a tiny jet that flew through several thunderstorms between Dallas and here, a flight that started with the attendant asking for volunteers to move from the front of the plane to the back "for better weight distribution." Ordinarily, that obvious lack of cutting-edge technology would have worried me, but I just thought, "Fine, do it quick so we can get out of here."
I'm home now -- did I mention that? -- most of the flu seemingly gone except the cough, the in-a-fog-aftermath and the weariness. Being sick is positively exhausting.
I need to lie down now. 'Scuse me, while I kiss the sky.
