Nectar of the Gods?

Maybe not. Maybe it’s the Foil of the Mucous?  Or, the Enemy of the Sneeze?  I don’t care what it is, actually.  The only thing that’s important to me right now is that I have the stuff:

More precious than gold, this is.
More precious than gold, this is.

Being sick and a grown-up is just not like being sick as a kid.  There’s no cool, soothing hand of the mom/dad around the joint right now, no cup-o-soup full of sodium to soothe me into slumber.  And, I didn’t get to spend the day watching The Courtship of Eddie’s Father (people let me tell you ’bout my best friend) or Family Affair (I always dreamed I’d grow up and have two little tow-headed kids named Buffy and Jody and a man-servant named Mr. French) and drinking buckets and buckets of Tang.  (Now you know how old I am — I don’t think those shows were yet in syndication when I watched them, and I’m not even sure they make Tang anymore.)

Forcing myself up and at it tomorrow, because this week was supposed to be about fixing up the homestead and getting ready to move on.  So, tonight, while I didn’t really DO anything, I at least laid out a plan to GET IT DONE.  Going to the gym tomorrow no matter what to sweat out some of these here germs, and then coming home to at least get the bedroom sorted, and laundry ready for drop off so that Wednesday, Thursday and Friday will see me toting all the stuff I don’t wear, need, read, or use out to the dumpster I’ve rented.  I expect that by Saturday, my chest, head and apartment will be brand new and clutter (or mucus)-free.




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