knox snooze

Succotash my Balzac, dipshiitake.

Sicknesses

My wife and I have spent the better (or was it worse) part of the last week being sick. Sick as hell. Industrial-strength-lubricants-out-of-the-nose sick. Good-thing-we-don't-have-a-gun sick. Real. Damn. Sick.

I think I'm getting over it now. I spent two days out of work last week, which was the first time I think I've done that in a couple of years. Faith, on the other hand, was so sick today that she had to be replaced at work by a woman who is due to give birth to her first child on Wednesday.

What do you mean you can't come into work because your water just broke? I'm spewing geysers of mucous here, lady. Get your pregnant ass into the office.

The result of all the sickness and staying-homeness of the last week is that we have sort of devolved into a kind of sub-human stumbling and muttering around the house. Pain and nausea are communicated by similar grunts that can only be differentiated by highly trained anthropologists. And us. It's just too much damn work to talk. What with all the mouth moving and listening and keeping our eyes open...it's really quite taxing.

I think we might need an intervention now, though. I just sent her an instant message (sickness be damned, we need internet-medicine), asking her to mute Gaim while we're messaging each other. Cause I'm ten feet away. And cranky like only an over-internetted invalid can be.
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