For all of you that kept needling me to go to the doctor, yeah, you were right, okay? Now be quiet! :) Actually, I got better news than I expected. I have a nasty ugly sinus infection—bad enough that the doc felt that part of my problem was that I wasn't getting good sleep because of it. So Dr. Puri loaded me up with industrial-strength antihistamines (a shot, no less!) and sent me home with a prescription for a wicked-strength anti-coughing medicine and told me to get some rest.I have GOT to find out what these meds are. Two hours after the shot, I would've sworn to you that I wasn't even sick. I could breathe, I could think. So I did a couple of loads of laundry, made a very-necessary run to the bank, and picked up a few bags of groceries. Then came home and lolled on the couch for a few hours. Last night I slept like a log and actually woke up before my alarm this morning (thus, having enough time to write this before I amble off to work).

So, anyway. Looks like that saga's nearly over.

Have you ever noticed that when you go on vacation, it's never the Big Events that you remember, but the smaller, inconsequential ones that stick with you the longest? When we went to British Columbia to visit Brad a couple of months ago, we had major things planned, like a tour of a brewery, me finally tasting fish & chips, and the massive Walking Tour Of Victoria.

Instead, what I remember from the trip: stealing Judy's purple-and-pink coat, her spare umbrella, and hiking out with Brad on Sunday afternoon to go buy music. Stereotypically, cities by the sea have air that smells of the sea, especially when rain clears the air. It means nothing to the inhabitants, but it's special to we landlubbers who can count on one hand the time we've ever seen anything larger than a small lake.

So we walked. I split a couple of good rain puddles for no reason except that they were there. I marveled that people were out, window shopping, when in Arkansas and Alabama even the slightest rain is an excuse to stay home. And when we got to A&B Sound I spotted some artwork on the wall and just drooled. I stood and stared and thought, 'Wow. The person who paints that has laughter in his soul'—something about the use of color and light that communicated joy. These paintings were painted by someone who understands that there is more to art (any art) than the application of media. You can slap paint onto canvas, but that does not automatically inbue meaning or emotion; the same way that you can spew words onto a page and have them mean nothing when taken in sequence.

Given my penchant for saying what I think, you can probably guess how happy I was when I realized I could afford his work. Shameless plug: his name's Robert Cerins, and you can see his work at http://www.robertcerins.com. (Hi, Marion!) Take a look. If I could paint worth a damn, I'd want to do something like this.

Now all I've got to do is get all these major cosmetic repairs done to the house first and then I can start saving up for artwork. Sigh—so much to do! That's another day's worth of commentary right there.

Either way, though, it's time for me to go to work. My co-workers will be cheered to find me my normal productive, sunny, and comment-filled self. Much different than the expressionless, tired, and obviously sick person I've been lately. Good to know life's been waiting on me to get back to it.