I guess, despite the strong Morrison-edged no one here gets out alive vibe hanging around me of late, I'm gonna live. As usual, my doctor poked, prodded, listened and looked and handed me some boxes of pills. I've been going to this guy for about 20 years now. Everybody else I've recommended him to has ponounced him "to grumpy" to continue seeing. I like the fact that he has NO patience for whining ... he wants to know what the symptoms are not how you feel about being sick ... and 90% of the time he'll hand you want you need from the "manufacturers samples" closet instead of making you go out and fill a $60 perscription! Right now I'm on some mega antibiotics that are really kicking my ass (despite all the bedrest I got over the weekend, I took the first two of these and had to go take a 3-hour nap), but hopefully they're kicking the crap in my lungs' ass more. After 3 weeks of this hacking I'm sick of being sick.
Of course, this also meant that I didn't get jack shit done today after not having got jack shit done this weekend, so I really need to start focusing tomorrow. I have a "project" from the Career Services folks at Chubb where if I get out 15 resumes this week, they'll follow up on them for me next week. Which would be a Good Thing. Especially since I'm still speaking in a strangled whisper not suitable for phone work!
And ... and ... yeah ... poetry! I was intending to get some of this now whole notebook full typed up this week, but we'll see how that goes. I heard from a long-lost buddy last night who was saying he's coming down for a conference here the end of the week and was looking for a place to crash, so I might be tied up with that madness then.