So it turns out that the past three days given to “rest,” which is what one does to recover from the flu, were actually devoted to incubating a mean-ass case of strep throat. I finally went to a doctor, who told me my throat was “full of pus” (lovely) and that my head “must feel awful” (oh it does, thank you very much). It’s in my throat, ears, and sinuses. I’m on antibiotics that should make me start to feel better right around after Christmas.
So, barring a miracle (’tis the season!), it looks like no Christmas in New York for me. Maybe we’ll go down right after. Maybe I’ll just sit around in Hamilton feeling sorry for myself. Right now I can’t do much but fantasize about removing my own head from its bodily stalk with a hacksaw. My stupid, stupid head.