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You know what the best thing about influenza is? It sounds like a poem title, like a hot latin dance that is too cool to even have made it to the states, like a tough drink made mostly with gin, a dash of diced habenero peppers and pomagranite seeds, and a dash of bitters.

You know what the worst thing about influenza is? The days on end of writhing join pain that comes on each late afternoon allowing for only about an hour of troubled sleep until it lets up at 7 a.m. finally allowing for an unbroken few hours.

Right in the middle is being completely worthless to leave the house, or attend to any important business like getting up to go get toilet paper. Also in the middle is merciful landlords who bring movies, toilet paper and juice, and friends who come over and make chicken soup.

But no one's around at 3 a.m. when it's raging at it's apex and not all of the heaters and comforters in the world can stop that one trickle of cold air from sucking all available heat out of the body.

It's day four and I'm pretty sick of it. It sucks for it to be the middle of the afternoon and be too tired to sit up and read a book. It just goes to all my kinks and broken parts and says, "Fuck you, higher form of life." I mean, christ, scientists can't even decide if viruses are alive or not...just self-replicating little biological machines that wreak their havok until the autoimmune system figures it out.

Plus, not having had any coffee in three days adds a hammering, persistant caffeine-withdrawal headache into the mix, leaving me, at best able to sit up and watch movies and at worst unable to get up and pee without a pretty serious internal pep talk.

It's not as bad tonight. It's gonna get better soon. I can tell.

(For all those wondering what happened to "I'm OK":
a) I think I caught it in one of its downcycles and
b) I chose to go sit in my cold office for several hours and then go out for a nice walk on Lake City Way. That very evening I was bed-bound again.)


AWW!!! don't fret, tinymonkey... you'll be better soon, and it will all be a terrible memory. Feel better!

Mama love. I had a dream last night that you needed me to send warm clothing. I love you kiddo.

Sorry for your pain. The part of the pep talk to go pee almost made me spurt tea all over the monitor.