THE VERY PICTURE OF HEALTH

Like a few other individuals, I am one that rare breed that hardly ever gets the flu. What that really means is that I probably get infected just as much as everyone else, but without manifesting any evident symptoms. About four years ago I felt ill on the cable car, and was fine the next morning.
Four years before that I had a fever for two days.

But that, basically, has been the scope of it.

Consequently I am quite insufferable.

I gloat in my health.

Neener.



No longer. For the next several months, or maybe just weeks -- or even only two or three days -- I shall be properly humble. Onset of flu Friday afternoon, in the middle of cigars. Miserable by nightfall.
Felt like death warmed over all day yesterday, weak and achy, and upon getting home went to bed after a brief insane blogpost. This morning I still felt nasty as all getout, but I headed over to Marin County nevertheless.
It would have been unfair to other people if I had not done so.
Probably the worst I have felt in years.
Dizzy, listless, feverish.

I couldn't even enjoy fine tobacco, believe it or not!
.
Both Friday night and Saturday night I slept fitfully.
Strange dreams, chills, and bladder breaks.
Today was altogether sickening.



Right now?

I feel fine. Not entirely over it yet, but heck, perfectly okay. My appetite is back, and I'm fighting an urge to go out for a drinkipoo. Go party with the crazy drag queens around the corner. See, they sing very well, and are great fun to be with. And they don't mind tobacco at all.

Haven't felt so utterly splendid in days.

Life is darn good, if you ask me.

Tomorrow gonna be neat.

Monday!

To celebrate, I think I will keep an eye peeled for random female charm, cheerfully alert to lithe figures and bright, bright eyes. And small hands. Especially small hands. Brilliant fine-boned women, oh yes.
Plus cups of hot beverage, and a baked product or two.
A long stroll with a loaded briar, aged Virginia.
Radiating the very best of health.

I shall ride the bus back and forth, glowing with vigour.
The very image of manly polish and vibrancy.
Which is my normal rosy state.


I hardly ever get sick.

Neener.




By the way: Everytime you enjoy a quality tobacco product, a tofu-snarfing angel dies. Usually in Berkeley.




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