Hello, hello!  Apparently, 2019 has decided it wants to be the year of disease and crud and general unpleasantness in this house.  If I’m not sick, Dad is.  If he’s not sick, I am.  We don’t know where we’re getting sick or even what we’re sick with, but it seems like every time we feel better for a couple of days, something new pops up.  We keep blaming the dog (that’s what we have pets for, right?  To blame everything on them), but she doesn’t care as long as she gets her cuddles and food.  Anyway, this weekend it was my turn to get sick and I’m still in that post sickness haze where every time I feel halfway decent, I ask my body what kind of trick it’s pulling.  Needless to say, this post will probably be short and just a rant.

I’ve been sick pretty much since January 22nd.  I’ll have days where I feel pretty good, but never enough in a row to get any significant amount of work done.  That means my goals for the year are all screwed up.  Once I get over whatever is going on with me, I’ll have to rework all my plans and see what’s salvageable and what I need to push back.  But, honestly, I’m at the point right now where I just don’t care.  All I want is to go more than a week without feeling like crap.  But I don’t want to complain, so I’ll just leave you with a little ditty that describes how I feel.

Warning: profanity.