Eating My Words (And They Taste Terrible)

I was trying to remember what it was I said on Thursday. So I just went and copied and pasted it:
"Tonight I was out on the yard with Sausage and Sgt Archer (who was horribly sick and coughing all night, so don't blame me if I come down with it) and we had a pretty calm night. In between movements we sat around in the shack and listened to Sgt Archer cough and wheeze and groan and we offered homemade remedies. I gave him a pack of Theraflu I happened to have in my lunchbox. It didn't seem to help much. I told him to rub himself all over with Vicks and sleep in front of the vaporizer."

Yeah. Well, what I didn't put in there was when I told him I would beat certain parts of his anatomy with a large stick if he got me sick during my vacation.

It seems I'm going to owe him a beating. Just as soon as I have the strength to lift the stick, he's in for it.

Today is the first time since Saturday afternoon that I have eaten anything solid. Today is the first time I could focus my eyes well enough to type. And even this meager amount is kicking my butt. I have been awake for about eight hours out of the last forty eight.

But I am getting better. But oh so very slowly. So I'm going to make this short, if you don't mind.

According to the official calendar, today was both National Popcorn Day and Child Labor Day. I don't think we have to worry too much about child labor in this country any more. The lazy little punks don't even have to walk to the telephone anymore, let alone work for a living.

But then, I'm just feeling quite cranky.

Tomorrow is Serpent Day. I'm all over that. Tastes like chicken!

Except everything tastes like dirt right now, unfortunately.