The Plague Diaries

At this point, I should just rename the blog The Plague Diaries and bitch incessantly about how shitty I feel. An urgent care visit confirmed Influenza A for the men of the house. The woman remains pristine and unaffected. She says it’s because of her pure Persian blood. We mutts are more susceptible to these pedestrian degradations. I’m ignoring work today. Everyone knows I’m unwell, so I think I can get away with it. I’ve downloaded a few movies. Subtitles on so we can know what’s going on over all the coughing. The 13th Warrior, The Northman, and The Witch. I didn’t intend to double up on Eggers; it just worked out that way. I haven’t been able to read with this fever-addled brain. My eyes just seem to slide off the page after a couple of minutes. One could argue that I can’t really write either. I’m in a slump. I’m bored, and I’m boring. Housebound and grumpy. All the usual diversions don’t seem to satisfy.