Had the Grim Reaper showed himself yesterday, as I wretched and pooped till nothing was left, I would have signed the pact. Better dead, I thought, than this damnable flu, an early Xmas gift from one of my children.
But what a difference a day makes. Up and at ’em. Even got myself a haircut after a single slice of toast for breakfast. I’m glad that there was no pen in sight. I would have regretted the signing.