The virus I thought I’d faced down last Monday had an older brother, who held me down while Pestilence smacked me upside the head with his polo mallet.*
In a further stroke of irony—see what I did there?—I’m gonna miss my ‘flu shot today.
My brain has melted and is draining through my sinuses, leaving nothing but an empty, hurting space. So, if I commented on your blog today, I apologize for whatever it is I probably said. And also for the spelling, which is usually the first canary to fall off the perch in the Mine of Malaise.
On the plus side, all this coughing is working my abs and obliques something fierce. Ow.
Watson suggested—from a safe distance—that I hold a Snot Poem writing contest in lieu of content, but I’m afraid y’all will try it.
Instead, I’m going to direct you to another blog. John S, who comments here sometimes, recently posted a poem of his, “Whetting,” that immediately fired up my imagination, as good poetry is wont to do.
Please go read it. And while you’re at it, take a look at his other poems and posts, too. Good stuff.
Meanwhile, I’m going back to bed with a fresh box of tissues and a mug of hot tea.
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*What else would an expert Horseman use?
Poor chickadee. If only I send over a bowl of last night’s chickpea stew, so spicy that it’s guaranteed to blast through your sinuses and possibly right out the top of your head.
Feel better, love.
The worst part of the afternoon (besides the not breathing part) was that my MIL made cookies and I didn’t even know—I couldn’t smell them!
I second Averil’s sentiments, although whatever you do, don’t eat anything I cook. I just cut out mold from some tomatoes and put ‘em in a pot of sauce for tonight’s meal. It’ll either toughen the little varmints up or kill ‘em on the spot.
xo
Mold has vitamins, too, right?
Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about coming up with a word that rhymes with “boogers.”
Do take it easy.
Thanks, Mike.
(you know, boogers has a flexible pronunciation that might help. Sugars? Rugers? Tuggers?)
So sorry your household has been ground zero for super bugs. Be careful with that coughing. I’ve cracked ribs twice! My husband is out of town, so we don’t have to worry about snot limericks.
“…the canary to fall off the perch in the Mine of Malaise”. Seriously? Who can come up with these little gems when viral?? Feel better, my friend. It’s bound to pass…eventually? Okay, fingers crossed.
We all wish you a speedy recovery without making cloying or humerus remarks. After all, a bad cold is snot funny.
Thanks, Dad.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the sense of humor is genetic . . .
Hey, sorry to hear of more sickness. Thank you very much for the blogosphere plug. I did notice that the lurking stats went up, but there was nary a comment or like. I won’t be choosy though, maybe they’ll come back occasionally. Hope you feel better soon.
Thank you for posting “Whetting,” John. The whole point of Poetry Wednesdays is to introduce people to good poetry, and yours is.
I do hope you’re feeling better soon. This crud you’ve got/had sounds beastly.
I’m on the mend, Lisa, but still coughing myself awake all night. Lost my voice this afternoon, but I was working and no one really notices that in the library . . .