I'm still sick from our trip to Chicago. Hacking, uncontrollable hacking up of phlegm, a very sore throat, and a throbbing headache. I spent a few hours on the can yesterday doing the Hershey squirts, and threw up once in the kitchen sink. God bless that garbage disposal, it came in very handy. The weird thing is that nobody that I came into contact with has come down with this strange ailment. Not my 92 year old mother, not Mark, not my friend Dennis (who put up with us for a week). As far as I know, nobody. I keep retracing my steps from our week in Chicago, trying to figure out who gave me this bug. It could have been the fat ass sitting next to me on the plane to Chicago. Every time I moved my arm a fraction of an inch, his clammy fat arm moved in to take up the slack. By the time we got to O'Hare I was firmly wedged between him and the sleeper next to me, like boxer shorts in a fat man's ass crack. It could have been from the wedding. There was a lot of hugging and kissing, and many of the guests came from Miami, and Canada. This could be an evil Canadian germ that got me. Also, we stopped at one of those ubiquitous Chicago hot dog stands, the kind with grease everywhere and the long counter of condiments laid out for every fly and bug to land on, not to mention the somewhat hairy, sweaty men who put my hot dog together. I assume that alcohol would kill any germs, but still, after all the vodka we drank last week, who knows what those bar glasses were washed in. There was the riding of crowded buses, and the snarl of the lobby at the theater where we saw Motown. Speaking of that theater there was a beggar at the box office that got right up in my face. He asked me "How much for those tickets?" I imagine that was his way of making me feel guilty for his next question, "Got a couple of dollars mister?" The answer is no, I did not. I taught Mark seventeen years ago to not give money to the beggars. They are like cats. I think they send out pheromones when they score a sucker who gives them money, because moments later you are surrounded by them. My punishment for not donating money to the Chicago beggar troops may have been the germ of this sickness I have. I think he could have flicked it on me as I walked away. So today is the seventh day of my cold/flu/ebola. I can take it though, I've had worse. What I cannot take is Mark getting it. He is the worst baby when it comes to being sick. I swear that if he gets sick and starts ringing that little bell that he has, and ordering me to bring him soup, tea, and what have you, I will shove that thing up his ass so far you'll hear ringing when he sneezes.