I’m happy to report that The Old Man aka my father came through the operation with flying colors. And I seem to be well, too.
“Seem” being the main verb.
March 2017 will go down in local history as the Month of Pestilence. My colleagues at The Young Human Factory were dropping like flies, succumbing to every virus and bacteria our young humans brought us. When the rascals weren’t incubating more diseases, they were raising pets like lice and Scarcoptes scabiei.
I avoided the creepy crawlies but caught almost everything else my charges threw at me. I nursed myself through a series of respiratory illnesses, and thought I would outlast the sick season.
But then came March. In the first week, I ended up in the emergency room and was quarantined for two work days. In the second, I lost my voice and was forced to use extreme measures on the Factory floor.** Last weekend I felt well enough to plan an evening out, but ended up spending both days like a frat boy after a bender, but without the carousing and club-hopping.
So although I feel refreshed and energetic today, I’m sticking close to home until next Saturday. April has got to be better, no?
**Pro tip: lightly striking a metal filing cabinet with a piñata bat is more effective than flicking lights off and on, plus it sounds scary-cool.