Oct 30:

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, Very Bad Week. First, I went to work on Monday, and was feeling okay, but as the day went on the scratch in my throat became more and more pronounced, and the temperature seemed cooler, and cooler, as - by 11am - my head began to throb. What was up with my arms and legs? Are they aching? And the squirrel in my stomach - when the hell was he going to get off that wheel, and stop running around, and around, squeaking, and squirming... I told my boss I should probably go home, and headed home on the bus as I shivered from chills... and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, Very Bad Week.

Monday night, there were obvious signs of fever. Theraflu does nothing for me except make me sleepy, and lethargic. Tylenol seems to cut the fever, and pain, but keeping track of 4 hour intervals when you can't think straight is a tough proposition. I tried to focus on watching old movies - the ones I hadn't had time to get to at any other time. I watched Harold Lloyd, and Mae West, and W.C. Fields, and D.W. Griffith. And Murnau... WOW!!! Rhymes with Murnau!!! He died at 42, but not before making some of the greatest - albiet SILENT - films in the history of cinema. I liked Nosferatu, and really loved Sunrise, but then saw "The Last Laugh" (the last 'Man' in German), and The Docks of New York, and the Battle of San Piedro... and Day For Night, and by the time the marathon was over, I was exhausted... the end of Tuesday.

Wednesday morning... four o'clock in the morning... I found myself awake, and wondering why I was awake, until I realized the sheets were drenched... yet I didn't exactly feel... bad... any longer. I felt... was this what it felt like to feel... well? Isn't the Swine Flu supposed to last 5 days? Here, I had suffered for only 3 days - really 2-1/2 - and now... had the fever... broken?

When I woke up again, it was sometime before eight, and after toileting the dog, and making tea... it was clear... the fever was gone... chills: a cloudy memory... aches: history. I watched The Tin Drum, and The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp on Wednesday. Colonel Blimp is England's equivalent of "Gone With The Wind", and a great film by the Powell & Pressman team that also brought us "The Red Shoes" - a film brought to light by The Criterion Collection.

Thursday, was my first day back at work, and a day when the 'Big Boss' came out from headquarters to talk to the plebes. Dress code for the day: Absolutely NO JEANS. For me, this means 'wear a power suit'. The talk... Business: going well, we're making our marks, and raises and bonus goals are on-track - the same thing said at a similar pep talk exactly a year ago - and 3 months after, it was announced there would be no raises, no bonuses... (even though the goals were met THEN) So is there credibility in these announcements? Uh... None. So many eyes rolled in the room, I thought the ground was undulating.

Friday, Halloween. 'Big Boss' still in town. Dress code: (what? again?!) No annual Halloween Costumes. No Jeans. For me, this meant 'wear the Dwight Shrute suit'. Got more good work done Friday than Thursday. Friday night, Halloween Dance at Magnuson Park.

WORST THING OF THE WEEK!

Picture a sock-hop / dance at your high school... when you were new to the school. Better yet... picture going to a high school dance... at a high school you never attended. You know NO ONE. Most of them are older than you - the Dreaded BABY BOOMERS! They're shuffling to the same songs they danced to in the late 70's. (Oh, if only I'd followed up on those dance lessons!) But would it have helped? I'm not sure. Awkward - that's the word of the day. So I wandered up into the bleachers to get an overhead view of the dance / gymnasium floor.
Note to self: The Dwight Shrute suit might work as an under-the-radar Halloween costume at The Office, but Dwight is NOT the type of character one wants to exude in a Dating / Dancing situation.
Captain Jack Sparrow, or the 'tattoo armed biker' would have been better. But the pompadour rocker wig and black leather jacket were at home... 15 miles away. Awkward. This was EXACTLY why I became the D.J. at the front of the dance floor when still in High School - I couldn't stand being so... out of place. Then at least I could pick the music, and dance on my own behind the turntables. I was asked to dance by a woman dressed as a... NUN. She was in her 60's!! AWKWARD!! I said I wasn't ready. Then I was pulled out on the floor by a large chested woman with short hair, who was a very good dancer, but who's chest was so large, just putting my arm around her to dance uncomfortably intruded into her private mammary zones. AWKWARD!!!!

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad night. Tomorrow night, I've been invited to a Halloween party at the home of my sons. AWKWARD!!!!! What do *I* have in common with a bunch of teenage high school students?! Where's the Sgt. Pepper Band costume when you need it? Oh... packed away with the rest of the stuff when the house was put back on the market. But I can't think about that right now... Fiddle de dee. After All: Tomorrow Is Another Day.