Sculpin

I’m in Day 4 or 5 of a nasty cold, with fever and coughing and weakness and all those things. I’m just well enough to be out of bed, which has its good points and its bad points. When I’m asleep, I can’t do anything stupid. When I’m awake and slightly mobile, though — I swear, raise my temperature a little and my judgment is the first thing to go. I start getting random bad ideas, and it is only my restricted ability to carry out these ideas that has kept me from, say, burning my house down. As the fever seems to wiggle the contrast and brightness knobs of the universe, I get a wee bit over-enthusiastic. I think of this as the “best squirrel ever” effect.

I am, I think, catching on to this a little. For instance, I did not spoon Vick’s Vapo-Rub into my bath today to find out if it’d be a good bath oil. And though trying to flambé the tomatoes might have been a fine idea, this was not the day for it.

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