Can we lay out some ground rules here? I really don’t want to get comments that say any of the following
I had that once and it turned out to be X (x being some dreadful)
My cousin had that. The funeral was lovely
Don’t take chances! Eat six bulbs of fennel STAT!
Whoa, dude, you think it might be that? You think?
It’s like this. The cold, right? The eternal interminable wretched miserable cold. I get one a year, maybe. Sometimes I get the tickle and the little symptoms, and I eat zinc and Vitamin C and fend it off and walk around with my chest puffed out like Anthony . . . who’s the guy? Zorba? Not Perkins, that’s for damned sure. Not Zerbe. Quinn! Right. The mighty eskimo. I walk around like the rude picture of health pounding my gut and saying STRONG LIKE BOOL. But every so often the cold gets you unawares, and it’s one of those hideously strong bugs that just lays everyone low. If it was just the goop it wouldn’t be so bad. If you were a little tired and had a little cough, okay. It’s a cold. I get it. But I talked to someone last night at a party who’s had the chestal congestion for a month, and that seems about right from unscientific polls. So you got the hack. What we call the productive cough.
Well, fine, as long as we’re not feverish - but then a week ago, the cold decided it would flare up. And then it went away. I was reasonably good except for the productive cough. Full of energy and bounteous power: STRONG LIKE BOOL. Then Saturday came, and I was wracked with aches and chills, and led directly to one of those marvelous entertaining nights of FEVER SWEATS, where you dream all sorts of mad crazy things, rip off the covers, discover the effect of evaporation, and in general just have a miserable time of it.
Been here before, and it was pneumonia. Which really, really sucks. More than you can believe. But at least I have suspicions now; if I’m this bad tomorrow I’m off to the ER for scans and drugs. Joy! Evidence that it’s not pnuuu-monie? I don’t have the hideous fatigue - yet. The cough has died down to almost nothing. Still achey and slightly chilled, but my voice doesn’t have the deathly croak it did when I had it before. And I can breathe deeply without discomfort, or doubling over. It could just be a long cold that will - not - let - go.
But what to do when you feel so worn, wondering what’s coming? Sit in front of the computer and shiver a little and test every link on the site, redesign what needs to be tweaked, and generally make sure the site’s not a constant frustration to people who wonder why I can’t be arsed to fix a link. It got to the point where I was editing the code because the template I used called for a graphic that wasn’t there. Wasn’t needed, but it generated an error message. This isn’t a problem when the subsite has 15 pages. Then you realize it exists in a subsite with 100 pages, and you say OH TO HELL WITH IT and create a folder with the graphic, and put in a blank gif. Happy now? Good.
Oh, I watched some movies this weekend; watched Bruce Willis in “Red,” aka Old Farts go up against the Whippersnappers, and I enjoyed it. Mostly because I only watched it out of one eye. Tried to watch a movie for the B&W site called “Side Street,” and I realized right away I’d seen it before. Earnest and dull. Stars Farley Granger, who’s uninteresting in the movie, but the opening shots of lower Manhattan are absolutely spectacular.
This building stuck out the first time I saw the movie: what, it’s made of golden radioactive cake?
If that’s the Equitable on the upper right, then the building does not exist, and was inserted by matte shot. Why?
Then the camera swings around here:
So it's not the Equitable. It's a doppelganger. And it's longer there. Neither is the shiny golden building.
Here’s the opening, courtesy of TCM; it’s notable for its inadvertent documentary. The frame just teem with the long-gone and forgotten.
I should have saved that for tomorrow when I’m really out flat on my back. Well, there are updates aplenty queued and circling and ready to roll. Now if you will excuse me I have to sleep. Perchance, I fear, to dream.