The week started out well enough. It was Bone's first-ever attempt at an Halloween party. Though there was some pause given on whether to have the fiesta on Saturday or Sunday night, as Halloween fell on Sunday and I don't know how it is where you're from but in Alabama Sunday night is church night. As is Wednesday night. So towns, cities and churches debated on whether to declare Saturday the official night for tricks and treats. With no clear consensus reached, confusion reigned.
Fortunately, I thrive on confusion. OK, maybe not, but it sounded like a good thing to say there.
So the party was set for Saturday night and up until Saturday Noon looked like it would be about as well attended as a Dick Cheney hunting seminar. Then I guess no one could find anything else better to do -- which in itself is just beyond pathetic -- and we wound up with several late commits and a party of twelve.
There was pumpkin carving, pumpkin cupcakes -- which I did not sample, blech -- and the newest Halloween tradition of them all, a few games of Spoons. I don't know how familiar you are with the rules of Spoons, but my goal is to be in the final two, NOT get the four-of-a-kind, yet still manage to grab the spoon first. I mean, that would by far be the ultimate amongst all my relatively useless competitive accomplishments. I will retire from Spoons when that happens. And possibly do the late-night talk show circuit.
Perhaps the highlight of the evening was the costume contest. There was an adult costume contest, which wasn't as fun as it initially sounds, and a children's contest. Dressing up for Halloween for the first time in over twenty years, I managed to win the adult contest, barely outdistancing Lil Bootay 3 votes to 2, which was even odder ("even odder?") considering she wasn't wearing a costume.
So the party was a qualified (and inexplicable) success. Then things began to go downhill.
I got a sore throat Monday night. Normally I'm over anything in a day, two max. But things kept getting worse. I went to the doctor Thursday, but instead of antibiotics, he gave me some sore throat mouthwash, which didn't really help my sore throat but did function somewhat well as a weight loss pill as it soon brought my vomitless streak to an end.
I started running a fever Thursday night, which for some reason always makes me think of the time on Little House On The Prairie that Albert had a fever and they put him in a tub of ice. Or was it Almanzo? And why do I always think of that? It's not like I could ever actually do it. I can't even stand a cold shower.
Also -- and I don't think I've ever noticed this before -- but it's possible I'm a bit of a whiner when I'm sick. This occurred to me sometime amidst the three days of lying around randomly making groaning noises and occasionally moaning things like "I'm dying" and "Why me, Lord?"
Hard to believe any week that began like this could actually go downhill:
But alas, things are finally looking up. I went to the walk-in clinic today (you just cannot make that sound classy) and took two shots in the buttocks (that either). On a positive note, they were administered by a female.
So I've got some antibiotics. I have something else in common with Forrest Gump (besides hailing from Alabama). And best of all, McRib is back! Who wouldn't wanna be me?
"It'd be easy to add up all the pain, and all the dreams you sat and watched go up in flames. Dwell on the wreckage as it smolders in the rain. But not me. I'm alive..."