Sick As A Dog

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Sometimes I lie when I write a blog. I don't do that to offend anyone, but it makes for a better story.

This conversation wasn't a lie.

Happened on Sunday night just before bed.

My beautiful wife: Sam is still sick. I'm gonna' have to take him to the doctor tomorrow.

Me: Isn't it weird that I NEVER get sick? I don't think I've had even a cold for 5 years.

My beautiful wife: Maybe you shouldn't say anything.

Me: You can't hold down the Fabulous Fazzolari.

My beautiful wife: Get the hell away from me.

I did. I headed off to bed with visions of a 28th World Series Championship running through my head. I woke at regular time and headed out, hitting the road by 6:30.

What the hell?

I went to a few meetings.

I was dizzy. My chest hurt. My head was pounding.

What can this be?

I battled through. Kathy had the day off. I headed straight home. I went right to bed.

My beautiful wife: Are you sick?

Me: Of course not.

I actually got out of bed and went outside and mowed the lawn.

Sick! That's funny!!

The 27-Time World Champion first-place New York Yankees beat the Red Sux in the first of three. The hapless O's lost. I went back to sleep. I had a full schedule planned.

When I woke at 1:30 a.m. I knew it was over. I couldn't lift my head.

The Fabulous Fazzolari was grounded.

My beautiful wife: Are you sick?

Me: Please refrain from speaking.

My beautiful wife: Here, I got you some Vapo Rub and flu tablets.

Me: Will you be rubbing it on my chest?

My beautiful wife: hahahahahahahhahahhahahhahhahahahhahahhahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahhahahhahahhhahahhahhahahhahhahhahhahhaahhhhahhahahahhahhahhahahahahhahahahhahahahahahahahhahhahaha.

I'm going back to bed.

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