In Which Our Hero Yacks Up A Lung…

I have spent most of the last two weeks in a steady state of coughing, hacking, wheezing, sneezing, and sniffling with a runny nose, watery eyes, sore throat, fever, chills, and general infirmity. I’d get better for a day or two, and then WHAMMO! I’m back underneath it.

Two things became crystal clear to me as a result. First, I have spent more time sick since the birth of my two year old than I had in almost my entire life up to that point. Second, I honestly believe that my son is a magnet for the only the most debilitating diseases. He doesn’t bring home the normal, every day run of the mill cold bug. There’s no 24 hours of sneezing and that’s it. He brings home the granddaddy germs. He tracks in the worst of the viral strains. He must carefully identify and capture only the nastiest of bacteria to pass on. When he brings the evil, he really means it.

At any rate, I’m back among the living. I am heavily medicated on antibiotics and Codeine laced cough syrups.

I’ll jot some thoughts later on some of the goodies I’ve missed while out of it. I can’t possibly let Britney’s VMA performance go without a comment and I’ve been laughing my ass off all morning at the sorry state of one O.J. Simpson. But I’ll get to that. In the meantime, the Robitussin’s on me.

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