Monday, March 24, 2014

Writing to Psyche This Flu Thing Away: Go Away, Flu! Scram! Get Out of Here!

In honor of Kentucky's win yesterday - hot game, Wildcats - I grabbed a bottle of bourbon.

I wish I could say it was in celebration of their accomplishment, but it was a last resort. My Sunday was biblical and I never left my house to go to church. Instead, I helped a friend edit her dissertation, wrote a grant, played Words with Friends, and watched the tournament, all the while aching, leaking, coughing, sneezing, sweating, and freezing.

I had to ask for my dad's recipe - one I haven't had since I was a kid: honey, lemon, and whisky. It may be all I have left to fight off this monster - whatever it is.

As my dear friend, Kirsten, scolded me in college, "Bryan, you never know how to sit still or relax." True. It takes the flu to keep me on my couch and in one location for 48 hours.

It is the flu, right? I read the symptoms and it seems like the best diagnosis. In fact, I have begun a memoir to capture the experience. It simply goes like this.

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