Fleetwood Mac 'Fleetwood Mac'

Well, I’m sitting alone at home and I’ve exhausted the supply of shows that I watch by myself off the DVR. It’s a Monday and it’s also one of those rare times that I called in sick for work.

I don’t like calling in sick. It has always felt wrong to me. It’s not like my job is important and my absence would be detrimental… It just feels kind of slimy to me.

But having been on the managerial side of things, I’d rather have the sick person staying at home then coming to work. They slow things down, they’re groggy, they cough a lot, they sneeze, and I’ve always felt it necessary to wipe down their entire work area with disinfecting wipes.

Being sick during the middle of August really sucks. I ventured out this past Saturday for supplies and that made me a sweaty mess. The humidity and sickness caused my pores to explode like geysers. When got back into my truck from a simple trip to the grocery store, I looked like Ted Striker trying to land an airplane.

On the list of horrible things one often endures during a lifetime, being under the weather during the summer has to be in the top five.

It came on with a sore throat on Friday, but it wasn’t anything like the soul zapper that it has turned into. I took Saturday off to replenish the energy and just chill. I didn’t feel like doing anything and that’s exactly what I did. Nothing. By the end of the evening it was starting to affect my asthma. So toss shortness of breath into the unsavory summer cold stew. There’s nothing like a good wheeze when you’re sucking in air to cough up a lung.

I felt a little better Sunday morning. But I found myself in and out of the race with snoozing. I just felt weak and completely stuffed when it came to breathing. About halfway through the premiere of ‘Low Winter Sun’, I just couldn’t take anymore fighting. I just wanted to go to bed and sleep.

I woke up early today. Let the dog out and sat in front of the computer to get acquainted with the goings-on outside of my world. The profuse sweating had returned, I was coughing up things that resembled jellyfish, and I was extremely tired. I knew that despite all the things I had going on today, I was not going to make it to work.

I called Kim Spears, who was filling in during my absence, to give him some ideas of what to expect. I must have sounded like actor Kevin James from ‘King Of Queens’ after sprinting 100 yards. After every stopped up sentence there was a big wheezy gasp for breath.

As far back as I can remember this is my first summer cold. I have always sympathized with summer cold sufferers without having any first hand knowledge of how horrible and suck-ass it can be.

I’m just glad that I never uttered the words in my lifetime, “Yeah, right. Summer cold my ass.”