Punch-Drunk Sick

We continue to battle illness here, and aside from a few instances of enforced unconsciousness, I have been able to maintain at least “walking dead” level of activity or better . . . but I’m more than a touch loopy at times.

For example:

“That’s treacherous!” I hear my son proclaim from the other room.

Now my healthy first instinct should have been to ask him what he was talking about, but instead I start monologing.

“Treacherous is a great word . . .  so is treachery,” I tell myself before switching to an overdramatic Shakespearean voice.  “Someday you shall have cause to rue your treachery, villain!  Rue it, I say!  RUE!”

“Oh!” I chirp happily in a more normal tone.  “And you’ll probably Kanga it too while you’re at it.”

I definitely need more rest.

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