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  <title>domesticat.net</title>
  <subtitle>Much ado about the usual nothing.</subtitle>
  <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://domesticat.net/2003/12/martian-death-flu"/>
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  <updated>2007-12-12T22:05:24+00:00</updated>
  <entry>
    <title>Martian Death Flu?</title>
    <link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://domesticat.net/2003/12/martian-death-flu" />
    <id>http://domesticat.net/2003/12/martian-death-flu</id>
    <published>2003-12-16T05:27:43+00:00</published>
    <updated>2007-12-12T22:05:24+00:00</updated>
    <author>
      <name>domesticat</name>
    </author>
    <category term="illness" />
    <category term="los angeles" />
    <category term="travel" />
    <category term="vacation" />
    <summary type="html"><![CDATA[<p>Whether or not what I have could be correctly termed "Martian Death Flu" is somewhat irrelevant; anything that forces you to sleep for over eighteen hours a day - while you're on vacation, no less - counts, as far as I can tell.</p>
    ]]></summary>
    <content type="html"><![CDATA[<p>Whether or not what I have could be correctly termed "Martian Death Flu" is somewhat irrelevant; anything that forces you to sleep for over eighteen hours a day - while you're on vacation, no less - counts, as far as I can tell.</p>
<p>For those of you who hated the sunny, cheerful phone calls I made from the beach, revenge is yours.  I have spent the last 24 hours huddled up on Noah and David's couch, under blankets, alternately sneezing and snuffling, and making the blindingly-obvious statements that I always make when somewhat feverish.If ever there was a hint that perhaps it was time to go home, this is it.  True, I need sleep, as I also need hydration and probably a few calories (hard to get interested in eating when all food tastes like unsalted cardboard), but what I really, <em>really</em> need right now is some kitty ministrations.</p>
<p>Jeff has been notified, and <acronym title="For those of you who don't know, I sometimes collectively refer to our two cats as Fang.">Fang</acronym> is on standby.  The plan, inasmuch as someone like me could ever be described as having a plan, is to fly to Birmingham, be driven home, then collapse on the nearest comfortable and horizontal surface while allowing Fang to swarm over me.</p>
<p>'Course, I gotta get home first, and is <em>that</em> will be quite the dance.  LAX to Phoenix.  Since that's one round trip, I have to pick up my bag at the carousel, then re-check it.  Then I pick up my other round-trip; I fly from Phoenix to New Orleans.  No bag re-checking, but instead, I get to do the <acronym title="It's just a jump to the left, and the terminal to the right...">Plane Change Dance</acronym>.  Fly from New Orleans to Birmingham.  Find spouse at baggage claim.  Hopefully find bags at baggage claim.</p>
<p>Crawl home.<br />
Crawl into bed.<br />
Cuddle Fang.<br />
Apologize to Fang.<br />
Apologize to Fang.<br />
Apologize to Fang.<br />
Apologize to Fang.<br />
Apologize to Fang.<br />
Apologize to Fang.<br />
Apologize to Fang.<br />
Apologize to Fang.<br />
Apologize to Fang.<br />
Apologize to Fang.<br />
Sleep.</p>
<p>Entries will return when I'm back home, I manage to get some sleep, and my temperature returns to normal.  Or after we get back from seeing <em>Return of the King</em> on Wednesday.  Whichever comes first.</p>
    ]]></content>
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