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I’ve been ill with something that may have been flu for several days.  Fevered half-dreams.  I’m tortured by mental songs on repeat, things I would never consciously bring to mind. Seven hours of “Spice up Your Life”, followed by a ten second snippet of Cake’s “The Distance”.  Dehydration.  The ceiling fan is casting its unblinking eye down upon me as I writhe and I writhe.

I seem to have damaged the intercostal muscles between my ribs through strenuous efforts to evacuate by mouth the nasties that were inside. I’m okay now except when I laugh.  Stupid jokes.