Last Call

I have spent the last few days in attempted murder. Murder of a head cold or flu or some such, that is. I came down with it last week, and in its final throes I have lit it afire with the stench of nicotine and doused it out again with beery suds, and a dash of bourbon.

I do this with every cold I get, when it's almost gone I go to town, binge drinking and chain smoking in order to do the following:

1. Show my body just who the boss is, especially when it comes to feeling poorly.
2. Show my cold just exactly how indifferent I am to its needs.
3. Show myself a good time, if the murder plot should fail.

The sinuses are fine now, the ears far less fuzzed out, however there's a rattle in my lungs that persists, it should be gone shortly.

In completely unrelated news, no one is getting the axe, however we shall see just how well nepotism coalesces with communal spirit.

As a final aside, she managed to show and escape cleanly once again. Sigh.