Apparently, getting at Fynch from Max’s current location is going to present some difficulties.  Of course, our hero’s got bigger problems to deal with at the moment anyway…

 
Bobservations

BULLETPROOF

 

It always irks me when I discover that I’m not invulnerable. Here I deny myself goodies that I want to eat or drink, and do exercises that I’d rather not do, and get flu shots that I’d prefer to avoid, and take vitamins that are a daily annoyance, and yet what do I bring home from ComicCon (besides comic books and sore feet?) Con Crud, that’s what.

And I was wearing my Supes tee-shirt, too. I mean, how much more protected could I be? But no. Somewhere in that teeming throng of 100,000 people somebody had a virus, and it went all 12 Monkeys on my ass.

With your kind indulgence, I shall now plagiarize from myself a letter I wrote a few years back describing a similar illness:

The Crud was just a cold, the kind that starts out as a young, eager, sore throat and post-nasal drip, proceeds over the space of a few days to rise in the world and get a bit above itself, lounging around in the sinuses and taking up all the room and quite frankly enjoying itself a bit too much and not attending to its affairs; whereupon it eventually finds itself without the ability to maintain the lifestyle it had been enjoying and is evicted into the lungs. This is my Crud’s current stage, a querulous, annoying derelict of a disease that shuffles about in the gutters and alleys of my breathing tubes, urinating on the walls, scrounging in dumpsters, and occasionally being responsible for my producing great hacking coughs that get me no sympathy because everyone assumes I’m just trying to be annoying.  No one would possibly make that kind of noise unless they wanted to.

Now, if I worked an ordinary job, this would either mean taking sick days (which is probably hard to do these days, especially if you’ve already taken time off for a Con) or going into work sick and being hated and shunned by co-workers.

If I was still in school, it would mean staying home in bed reading comic books all day.

For me, it just means adjusting my work so that I am not actually playing with anything flammable during the period when I am looped on cold medications, and instead doing all those myriad things that need doing but are fairly brainless, like organizing files, capturing footage, and trimming clips.

Oh, and doing blog posts. Check, and done.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to bed to read comic books.

–Bob out