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9:27 a.m. - January 16, 2006
Bleech!
If I were Pat Robertson, I’d blame Violet for what has happened this weekend.

Ever since I decided to cave in (lest “Limelight” by Rush be psychically implanted in my brain at the wee hours o’ every morn) and do one of those little ‘things’ that go around these sites, things have happened.

Normally, I resist those things, but the thought of Geddy Lee’s voice every morning for days and days was too much, and I crumpled.

(Besides, Rush, as Mr. Robertson knows, really stands for Ruled Under Satan’s Hand, right? Right?)

Anyway, so after I did this little thing, I’ve:

• Seen my alma mater lose a basketball game by 35 points. Sure, the team they were playing is a top 2 team in Division III, but still.
• Heard Kristin crying, and walking in to see her crib broken. Some screws had fallen out and it lowered itself. She was fine, but the crib needs some repair work.
• Seen the Colts play like they were sixth graders, and lose a playoff game.
• Gotten sick.

So, Mr. Robertson would no doubt blame Violet. But I won’t. (I just poke a little fun about how she forced me to do one of those things, even though I wove it delicately into an essay like normal).

Saturday started out a fine, fine day. I got up, made everyone French toast and bacon, and helped a bit while Liz was getting the house ready for my great-niece’s birthday party.

I was not going to be there for that, as I had a duty to perform at the Wabash basketball game (I run the stats computer), but I did my part.

Kristin, bless her heart, has been fighting a little cough lately, and both Liz and I have been treated to a face full of her hacking like a 40-year old smoker.

So I left for the game, and I felt my throat to be a little scratchy but I thought I’d be OK. I thought that if I didn’t get some sleep this weekend, next week I may get a cold.

So, when I left for home at 4:00, I felt OK. I had to cover a high school game that night, but should have the story written by 9:30, and would be able to watch the Patriots / Broncos game via TiVo and get a good nights sleep.

By 5:00 my throat started to get a little sore, and I may need to get cough drops after the game.

By 6:00, I thought I may need to get some cough drops now. So on the way to the game I stopped by CVS and picked some up.

By 8:00, during the varsity game, I felt that maybe I should skip church and rest on Sunday.

By the end of the varsity game, I was hoping that the coach’s interview would be short.

By the time I got home, my nose started to dribble a bit, and my throat was getting sorer.

As I was writing my story, the nose, she clogged up. Zam! That’s such a fun feeling to have it just hit you like that. Again, Zam!

But I finished the story and carried on with a glass of wine to watch the football game. Fortunately, the game wasn’t that close so I turned it off in the fourth quarter. My throat was still a bit raw, my nose was cloggy, and I didn’t finish my wine.

I turned in around 11:30 or so.

By 2:30 I was awake, as Liz, also feeling the affects from the gunk, was up to take some medicine and woke me up in the process. I couldn’t go back to sleep.

I tossed and turned until around five, then went downstairs, finally, to watch some TV.

When everyone else woke up, I took another nap. Katie was feeling well, and Kristin was fine in her pack and play. Liz was feeling lousy and I, lousier.

She gave me some medication, and I took it. It helped, a little.

But all afternoon, while the Colts were trying to make a valiant comeback, I barely got off the couch. There was no beer, no chips, no pizza rolls, no energy, nothing. I didn’t even feel tingles. It’s like my body was encased in Novocain.

I felt sorry for Katie. She was feeling great and chipper, and with both parents feeling lousy she was antsy.

After watching the other game, eating dinner, putting the kids to bed and watching the West Wing, Liz went off to bed. I made it through Criminal Intent, took NyQuil and soon joined her.

I got a decent night’s sleep, but still woke up all bleeech (technical medical term). I made it into work, but am going home soon. I’m all phlegm, no energy.

I’m not blaming the fact that I actually followed the crowd and did one of those things, but you gotta wonder. Is there a connection?

Nah, that would be too eerie. Besides, a seven month old with a cold trumps any supernatural cause.

 

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