But I digress.
Anyway, the particularly insidious zombie microbe which I refer to as My Cold ("Ouuuu, summer colds are the worst!" sympathetically tsks everyone I meet) and under which my body parts have been attack since the night of Friday, July 31, seems in no particular hurry to be done with me and depart for the nether regions from which it arose. (Which begs the question: where do viruses come from? I mean, besides other people? And while we're on the subject, anybody who's been to the movies in the past 20 years knows that humans turn into zombies from catching a virus, but how did viruses turn into zombies?). The mega-doses of vitamin C that I lob at this invisible zombie invader seem no more effective than bullets bouncing off Godzilla, though my virus does seem to be morphing on a daily basis. One day I'll be coughing up a lung, the next day merely blowing my brains out through my nose. Another day I'll spend plodding along in that tired, achy, indescribably crappyesque state that my mother the nurse used to call general malaise. There've been a couple of days I've felt like the living dead. As I write this I'm nursing my standard night-time headache and sore throat.
If only someone could figure out how to shoot the brains out of a microbe.