I noticed an entry dated March 19 in which I mentioned feeling cruddy. Yesterday I ran a fever until late afternoon. I suppose there is a slim chance that I’ve actually been sick and not just feeling sorry for myself. I’m one of those who “never” gets sick. So just what the holy h is going on here? Is this what happens when you turn 50, you get fevers and chills and coughs and aches and pains? That’s not fair and I don’t have time for this crap (which is inevitably when something like this happens, and I think that may be a message more real than choking on a fajita).
Martian death flu, my father would say. And I laugh when I think about that and feel like I might survive after all. Especially if I can convince Steve to fix me a hot toddy, and the odds of that are better than even.