I've felt sort of off the last couple of days. Yesterday, I had that itch in my throat, the first hint of a headache, a mild fever, and general sense of unwell-being that usually signifies a bad flu heading in your direction like a runaway freight-train. I expected to wake up this morning and feel like a discarded tissue; wet, crumpled, and filled with germs. Surprisingly enough, I felt pretty good. I still refused to get up on time -- simply because I'd prepared myself for a day in bed -- but I eventually managed to get myself to work, and the sneaky little flu-virus didn't attempt any guerrilla attacks on my body until just before six o'clock, when I was about to go work out. Even then, I was defiant in the face of the world's most virulent disease, and I managed to push and pull some bars and bells before I threw in the towel (literally) and headed on home.

And now I can feel the little buggers in my blood-stream, trying to stir up some trouble. They're just waiting for my immune-system to look the other way. But they're going to succeed only over my dead body! And I really, really mean that!  ¶ 22:13