So, mrpeenee, what adorable souvenir did you bring back from your trip to London and Paris? Two of them actually: a bookmark from Air France and a bad head cold from London. The very nice flight attendant in our cabin gave the little bookmark to Diane and she gave it to me; I don't know why I didn't get one directly, maybe I just don't look literate. I can see how that could happen. Coincidentally, R Man and I used to collect bookmarks on our travels. They're easy to transport, and the gift shops in museums would often have very cool ones as a memento. We wound up with several leather ones or fancy graphics ones and I still have the world's largest collection of them in private hands.
As for the cold, I suspect it got an early foothold from the vent in my hotel room in London blowing directly into my face. Then, not one, but two days stuck in the massive petri dish that is Heathrow Airport just sealed the deal. When I finally tottered back into my apartment on Thursday evening, I felt pretty knackered, but I thought that was just the traveling catching up with me. By Saturday, I threw in the towel and admitted I was sick. I have spent the week since then dealing with every symptom you can conceive of. The volume and range of excrescence my body is generating has been genuinely impressive and my coughing has become less of a symptom and more a way of life now.
Whenever I'm sick, my voice drops several octaves. My timbre these days is very similar to that of the fine American actress Miss Kathleen Turner, if Kathleen Turner were in the last stages of the Black Death. I'm not even convinced my voice is audible to humans anymore, it probably just shows up on some Richter scale reading somewhere.
The cats remain very attentive, I think they can sense there is something wrong with me, more so even than usual. Although I suppose it's possible they're just trying to get first dibs on eating my corpse. I'm feeling better today, but just remember if they find my cat mangled dead body, I request a non-denominational funeral at sea with a military band playing the classic "Funkytown."
Guys who could make me feel better:
Yes that jock is ASStastic, a callipygic delighter !
ReplyDelete-CA jock
A butt like that could raise the dead; how appropriate for Easter.
DeleteFeel better soon, Mr. P! (That ginger boy looks verrry tasty!)
ReplyDeleteAnonymous, too
Thanks sweetie, I'm pretty sure I'm on the mend
DeleteGet well soon! Love that ginger!
ReplyDeleteHe certainly is a perky little Dickens.
DeleteGet better soon! Heathrow sounds horrible.
ReplyDeleteSx
I think all airports are some kind of ring of hell
DeleteHope you are on the mend soon. Maybe you won’t go to Paris next April. We’ll see.
ReplyDeleteI am never leaving home again. They'll have to remove me from San Francisco in an urn.
DeleteWe’ll see.
DeleteCatching something's always the "catch" when it comes to travel. I just finished a trek back East to clean out Mum's place, then DROVE tons of Mum's crap back to Minnesota. When you're literally on the road, humanity, and I do mean humanity is everywhere. Every time I walked into a rest stop/whatever along 90 I figured I catch something. Then there was that shithole in Buffalo I spent the night in. Amazingly I got home unscathed. Feel better real soon, and DRINK! Flush it out!
ReplyDeleteYou are a better man than I
DeleteI've yet to come across an airport I like, there are no better than holding pens for cattle. The French natives have some strange ways, for example squat down toilets, its not natural and they eat funny food. Saying that so do the English I once took a 6am flight and the departure lounge bar was crammed full with drinkers, not just the usual scrobnobs but respectable looking old ladies nursing G&Ts yes, my mother and her friend Jean.
ReplyDeletethat sounds unbearably grim. Probably why you all were pouring them down your necks.
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