A new mystery has evolved. I rarely go anywhere and I don't have contact with anyone. How in the world did I get the flu? I got a flu shot a while ago so maybe I just have a nasty cold. While I was on one of my walks I must have touched something and then touched my nose or my eyes. Every time that I go out I wash my hands thoroughly when I return home. The only place that I can think of that might be the culprit is the library. I can see the headline now. "Man Expires From Too Much Reading." It would be a fitting epitaph for me.
I will have to go out today. There are things that I need and the little store down the street is very close. I went out yesterday for a walk in the snow and the cold. It was worth the effort. It is December in New England and it is about time that we had some snow and cold.
So I will go out and then return to a warm blanket and some hot tea with lemon and commiserate with myself. There is nothing more pitiful than a man with a cold. He sits huddled up with his tissues and blankie and wonders why there is no chicken soup for him to sip. He stares into the bathroom mirror and sees Rudolph staring back. He knows that he will get better but enjoys the self pity that emanates from every pore of his body. Linda Ronstadt created the anthem for a man with a cold. The lyrics are "Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me.". I don't need outside sympathy or compassion. I have enough of those for myself. I will get better. Not better than I was but better than I am now. I will close now (I can hear your cheers and applause) as I need to go and get some more tissues.
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1 comment:
Dad - Do you want me to pick up what you need?
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