I guess I need to apologize for the short and uninformative posting yesterday.  My state of mind was kind of like a weather report on the evening news:  Higher temperatures expected this evening with intermittent diarrhea and vomiting.  Tomorrow’s forecast looks much better with lower temperatures and calm and clear conditions (I hope).

My better-half has accused me in the past of being a cynical SOB who is skeptical about everyone and everything.  I have to agree with her to a point but I prefer the term pragmatic which sounds a little better.  With that in mind I’m trying to look at this bout of flu or virus from a different perspective.  I’ll pretend to be the optimistic and happy-go-lucky kind of guy my better-half wishes me to be.

Here goes.  For most of the day I was in and out of sleep and running a fairly high temperature.  I was dreaming and conscious most of the time but not really making much sense of things.  As bad as I felt I found that special something that my better-half has been preaching to me about.  I’m happy, proud, and honored to announce that I spent some quality time in a classroom with Sir Isaac Newton.  His hair was a little strange looking but the conversation was educational and informative.  I won’t go into specifics because they’re still a little fuzzy and hard to remember.  Dreams are like like.

The second good thing about this illness was a little harder to discover but being the new and improved optimistic SOB I’ve become I finally figured it out.  Weight loss.  I’ve lost close to six pounds in less than three days and I didn’t have to hit the gym or participate in any physical activity.  That’s a true statement if you don’t consider projectile vomiting a form of exercise.  I know I sure don’t.

So, excellent and historically incorrect dreams along with a six pound weight loss.  It really can’t get much better than that says my better-half.  I hate to burst her rose-colored-glasses bubble but I have no choice.  As much as I like meeting a long dead scientist and losing six pounds of ugly fat, it still wasn’t worth it.  In my humble opinion being optimistic is highly overrated.  I plan on staying just the way I am and the hell with Isaac Newton, a few pounds of weight loss, and my ever so optimistic better-half.

The morale of the story is simple:  "Being sick sucks!"