Monday night: "Uh, I don't think we should go to the movies tonight. I feel kinda funny. I'm gonna lie down, I think."

Tuesday: "Why does this thermometer say my temp is 102°F?"

Wednesday morning, Dr. Fisher: "You have the flu, Jeff. Here's a prescription for Tamiflu. Don't go back to work before Monday."

So, for those of you playing the home game, I have a sick spouse, and our biggest party of the year coming up in nine days. I've been around Jeff the entire time he's been sick, though I've been careful to keep my distance and take good care of myself; I should know in the next couple of days if I'm going to contract the flu from him or not.

Grr. Over thirty people have made plans to be at our house in nine days' time. While I'd like to say "I don't have time to get sick, so I just won't!"—the truth is that all I can do is take care of myself in the meantime, make alternate plans for our party if I get sick, and see our doctor quickly to get a Tamiflu prescription if I start showing any symptoms.

In the meantime …

Oscillococcinum? Check.
Echinacea tea? Check.

Will it work? I don't know for sure, but I know this: for the next few days, I'm declaring germ warfare.

The Pan-Holiday Extravaganza will happen, oh yes. We have people flying in for this party.

Don't make me get grumpy, germies. Jeff's already grumpy enough for all of us.