Jeez, just call me Cyclops.

Freaking pinkeye.  Two days before a trip, too.  I may have to send the family along ahead for a day and come when I’m hopefully no longer contagious — and no, that’s not a blessing in disguise, either.  This is a vacation that my mom’s wanted us to all do for almost a decade. There are wild horses and the beach and a Viking longboat and aunts to wrangle the children while my wife and I have a beer or three.  I want to go to this.  I just need not to be contagious for it.

Grr. Arrgh.

My wife has informed me that I am running a fever…

…and I believe that the subtext there was So go to bed, you idjit.  Or maybe it’s my subtext. Certainly at the moment I can’t think of a single interesting thing to say.

Moe Lane

PS: Yes, if this keeps up I may have to go to the doctor’s.  I figured that one out already. We’ll see after a proper night’s sleep.

Whatever this was, it kicked like a mule.

Almost literally: my sides still hurt, although thankfully my voice is almost back to normal.  What’s kind of worrying me is the relative lack of appetite, although I think that it’s starting to come back. Whatever this was — I assumed that it was just food poisoning from off BBQ sauce, but I’m starting to doubt it — keep it away from you.  Personally, I’m just glad that it hit now, and not Halloween.

I live.

I suppose. That was a remarkably unpleasant thirty-six hours or so, and I’m only feeling better, not well. I’m taking it easy for the rest of the day.

On the bright side: lots of sleep!  Lots and lots of sleep. With highly bizarre dreams.