Pfffffffft!

 I hate to admit it but the air's has gone out of my creative processes. Not only can I not come up with interesting and fascinating stories about earlier years I don't want to. For the past eleven days I have been sicker than sick. I've experienced nothing but stuffed sinuses and hacking coughs to the point of throwing up but there's nothing to cough up except my intestines and maybe a spleen.  

If this was 2015 and I told people how I feel they have'd all kinds of solutions ranging from chicken soup to sleeping in the garage with the car engine on just to get the sickness over. But, it's not 2015, is it? Nowadays, when I mention my illness the first thing out of people's mouths is, "Well, you've got the Covid." which prompts me to say, "I do not have the g-damn Covid, I have a cold and the flu and it sucks."

The worst sickness of my life occurred a week before Christmas in 1969. I was a first year teacher and on a Monday morning became so ill I literally passed out until the following Friday. I was in a coma. I didn't go to the hospital primarily because at 23 I felt like Superman. I had the Hong Kong flu. It most likely killed more humans than the Fauci flu but we'll never know. The next time I passed out from the flu was in a motel in MIddletown, Ohio in 1999 and I stayed in bed for three days with, not the Covid, but the flu. The major difference between the sickness I have today and the other two is I have not gone to La-la Land for any extended period of time--------Dammit!