It’s gonna be one of those holiday seasons.

The minor plague working its way through the household is taking its sweet time about the project. Herself still has a cough but otherwise feels fine, while I am yet in the early stages and feel, eh, not so swell.

As problems go, this is strictly First World, which ain’t bad for a couple of gabachos who live in the Third. We know people who have real diseases and realer troubles and never seem to go all Gloomy Gus on us.

Instead of being a whiny little bitch all the time I make my little japes and go for short walks, all the while hawking and snorting and spitting and in general trying to encourage the boogers to abandon this crumbling temple of the soul and jump on someone else, like a cat-burning Nazi.

“Gee whillikers, pal, you mean you don’t feel good enough for a nice bike ride in the late fall sunshine? Shucks, it makes a man’s eyes damp, for sure. My dog just died and the wife’s right behind her. And our kid’s having gay sex in a congressional hearing room so I had to change our phone numbers and cancel the Internet. Plus we have Nazis marching around the ’hood every night shouting “Blood and soil!” But I feel ya, bruh. ’Scuse me, be right back, I need to put out the cat. One of the Nazis set her on fire.”

So, yeah. Instead of being a whiny little bitch all the time I make my little japes and go for short walks, all the while hawking and snorting and spitting and in general trying to encourage the boogers to abandon this crumbling temple of the soul and jump on someone else, like a cat-burning Nazi.

It helps, for a little while. Haven’t seen any sniffling Nazis out there yet, but I remain hopeful.

This would actually be a fine time to wander over to the Main Attraction and start swinging the old sledge around. But instead, here I am swinging something a little less impressive around, and to no particular purpose, either.