The Perfect (Shit) Storm
You might as well just erase this weekend from the record books. Got a calendar? Put a streak of black paint across the last two days with a pair of fingers.
Hey! You probably noticed: no blog post this morning.
One primary reason for that: no Internet access here at Der Wendighaus. The storm goblins came and stole it away, along with our cable television. In addition, The Ochre Plague (named so for the color of phlegm drawn from my swollen lungs with every heaving, hacking cough) has really kicked into overdrive after a few days of nesting inside my body.
So, it’s been just a spectacular weekend.
Yesterday, I decided to heed the advice of a friend who basically said: eat some spicy death food to burn out the sickness, like American soldiers on the Bikini Atoll barbecuing the enemy in their nests with whooshing flamethrowers (okay, I’m paraphrasing). We left the house to seek Indian food, and I hadn’t realized that the rainstorm outside was nigh-apocalyptic. We turned down our normal route and found a ROAD CLOSED sign, but y’know, it was one of those half-ass ones, right? The ones you can drive past (er, just barely, almost clipping a mirror)? I thought, “Oh. Road closed? Well, pshh, they’re not talking to me.”
Yes. Yes they were.
We followed other intrepid sign-ignorers, and suddenly found ourselves driving underneath a disaster scene. A telephone pole had fallen, but was held up by trees and wires, thus suspended above the road. Dangling from it, like electric tentacles, were live power wires. You know how you drive through the car wash, and those floppy rubber tendrils drape across your car as the machine does its scrub-a-dub-dub duty? It was like that. The wires blessedly were not touching the car, but it was dang close.
Lesson learned. Road closed could mean “electrodeath ahead.”
Anywho. Got the Indian food (mmm chicken korma I want to marry you don’t tell my wife), but found ourselves shut out of the electronic entertainment category until, mmm, about 30 minutes ago (24 hour outage). I guess it worked out. I mostly just hunkered down and let the plague have its way with my supine body while I slept, read Boneshaker, beat Mass Effect 2, and played Bioshock 2. Which was fine, and would’ve been fun had it not been for the pneumonia rattle of angry mucus. And the low-grade fever (new for today!). And the face pulsing with diseased snot. And the “I got shit to do” feeling.
Here’s your obligatory post for the day. It rambles. I’m on cold meds. Deal.