Dillingham Crud

Yet another, yet another proverbial land mine stepped on. File this in the "Oh, by the Way" file, in the "Things to Look Out For" Department.

The locals call it "The Dillingham Crud".

Back in Iowa it would be called "a raging case of the flu". I fell ill on Saturday and just re-joined the living today. And that was only because for the past two days I steeped myself in baths as hot as I could stand them for at least a hour at a shot.

It hits you hard, fast and takes no prisoners. You can look forward to long days and nights of hacking up pounds of phlegm and small chunks of lung. I actually think drowning would have been a pleasurable change in breathing.

The thing that shocked the locals, and I kid you not, was that it took so long for me to come down with it. But I hear what you are thinking : What about Donna?

Shaddup.

That really pissed me off. Not so much as a sniffle for her. I get sucker-punched to death's door, knocking with both hands, and she tells me she has a minor sore throat. What. The. Hell? It's too bad my fever broke before she told me that, or I would go way, way, waaaaaaay the hell out of my way to breathe, sneeze or slobber all over her.

Would have served her right. ;-)