I’m just now getting online.  I’m sick as a dog.  I’ve spent the day sleeping or curled up on the couch wishing I could pass out.

Whatever plague I have is about as bad as it can be.  I’d like to say I feel better.  I’d be lying.

It’s probable I’ve rubbed my nose down to the cartilage.  Okay, that’s not true, but it sure feels like it.  What I can claim is that I’ve made it bleed profusely.  Yummy!  NOT!

This is the kind of disgusting illness that makes everything taste like rotted flesh.  No, I don’t have a frame of reference for that comparison, but it’s hard for me to think of any other way to describe it.  Even a glass of water tastes as though I just ladled a drink from the local sewage plant.  It’s nasty.  Breathing takes much effort because it’s worthy of a significant gag.  Yes, the air tastes gross.

Speaking of which, why is it that in the midst of a cold like this, it’s near impossible to smell or taste anything—except for the foul touch of illness that permeates everything?  Ugh.

Anyway, I’ll get a few things posted as long as my strength doesn’t fail me.  Since there’s not much of it to utilize…