Crying Out from the Sick Bed

Laying here with achy muscles, cough, and a fever which leaves me just too mushy-brained to finish the draft of this story, but not too sick to spew out gibberish of a blog.

My wife mocks my squeaky voice. My sons sense weakness, thus I’m subjected to marathons of Yo Gabba Gabba.


(And what happened to Biz Markie? At first I thought the beat boxing I was hearing was a figment of my fevered imagination.)
So all I’m left crying out to my Lord. Why hast Thou forsaken me? Thou leadest me through green, though now mostly yellow, phlegm. [Why is it whenever we think we need to connect with Thou we get all Old English on Thee?]

All things happen for a reason. I can only assume this is your Judgment for my blogging frenzy last week. I repent of those things. And I repent of having mocked my family a few weeks ago when they were sick by running around the house in my underwear yelling “I Am Legend.”


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