Every time I say something like, "I never get sick," you know what happens? I get sick. I don't say it very often and, perhaps as a result, I'm usually pretty healthy. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut. It's the kind of thing that almost makes be believe in jinxes.
This time, I have a sinus infection: aches, pains, sore throat and a headache as if my cranium is in a vise. (An opportune moment, perhaps, to mention that when I was about 5 years old, I got my head caught in the bars of the Cincinnati Zoo's alligator exhibit. Ah, those sweet, sweet, saftety-free days!) I've felt bad since Thursday; the antibiotics are beginning to kick in, I think, but I'm still sweaty and a tad delirious. I've been sitting in front of the fireplace, trying to get work done, but it hasn't been easy. I like the fire hot -- really hot, roaring, furnace-like, as if it's one of the Circles of Hell to which I'd be able to make a more graceful reference if I'd actually read Dante. So that's what's happening now in my living room, but the thing is, it's about 60 degrees outside, and as a result I have all of the windows open. My wife has gone to bed, claiming the room is "hot as hell," and although I tried to convince her that it's just me, that heat is coming from me, baby, she's off.
I say a fireplace is for fire. Otherwise, what?
And winter is for cold. I've heard about a thousand people say how great the weather is today. I'll say this: 60 degrees in January, in the Midwest, is not "great." It's freaky, and it sucks, and I certainly wouldn't complain if a gigantic snow storm blew in just about now and left me unable to get to my office tomorrow. Now that's what "great" means. It's true. Look it up.
There's something else, too. I took my kids to a place called Great Wolf Lodge on Saturday. It's a giant, indoor waterpark. Was it ill advised, going to a place like that when I was ailing and maybe maybe maybe a wee bit contagious? I suppose, but who can resist a humid, extremely loud room filled with hundreds of pale, doughy Midwesterners? I know I can't. I pondered this as lounged in the hot tub, which I affectionately refered to as the bacteria bath.
That brief foray to the hot tub reminded me of this: Eddie Murphy on SNL, in "James Brown's Celebrity Hot Tub Party." It's a skit I hadn't thought of in years, and when I finally looked it up on You Tube today, I wondered if it was really as funny as I remembered. It was. Maybe it's the fever talking, though.
Where was I? Something about work, I think? Well, I have a lot of it, and I should get back to it. Busy busy busy. Or maybe I should get to bed myself -- chug a little Nyquil and it's all good, just as long as the house doesn't burn down. Hope I don't dream of alligators again.
5 comments:
we had TONS of snow in Michigan this week. It was beautiful and awesome and I cross-country skiied, and my parents dog loved it.
I built giant pyromaniac fires too.
hope you burn that fever out.
Nice of you to contaminate all the greater Cincinnati-areas school aged kids. Epidemic. Way to go. ;-)
Bacteria Bath.
Pardon me, I think I need to be sick.
Oh right, and here's hoping you feel better soon!
Just helping out reference-wise: the Ninth and most terrible circle of Dante's Hell isn't hot at all. It's frozen over. Seriously.
hmmm, mark - is that the source of "when hell freezes over" - a favorite line of my grandfather, in response to whatever question posed by my grandmother that began: "When are you going to get around doing _____?"
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