Only the swine can make me blog again...

Two months ago I decided to quit blogging for a while.

Now the swine has got me and my throat feels like the War of 1812.

So instead of talking, I'm going to blog. I'm going to be a swiny blog douche who will refer people to my blog when they ask me how I am.

I've spent the last 10 minutes in the kitchen stalking as though in withdrawal for a huge serated knife. Damn those neo citron packages. Child proof is apparently equal to the stabbing yourself in the arm.

I feel like now would be the perfect time to be the star in one of those Canadian Heritage Moments where someone is laying on a bed with Scarlet fever. Or H1N1 as it were.

Everything about it has been about the countdown. Countdown to vaccine, countdown to you being able to get the vaccine, countdown to getting it, and now counting the hours to it becoming hellish and making me want to crawl into a coffin.

My friend sent me this lovely article titled "what to expect when you're expecting swine flu" which was great and annoying at the same time, because writing up a chronology of swine flu symptoms to serve humanity was the only coherent plan I've had since rolling into fetal position.

The article promised me more cheer to come, including "your friends will abandon you."

I've been one-upped on the article but it also made me start to doubt whether I had the swine. I mean, I most definitely have the flu - but this hasn't been worse than my last flu when I was actually convinced death had come.

Sore throat of death? no way. Sure I slept for 35 hours straight - but that was yesterday! so over that.

I started watching Breaking Bad - about a guy who has lung cancer who in the first episode poisons a couple guys with Phosphane gas.

I realized that my coughing began to sound eerily similar to both the cancer guy and the dude who manages to survive the gas.

This is what the article says about the sore throat:

It will make you ask yourself questions like, "If I knew I would have this sore throat for the rest of my life, would I choose to go on living?" And the answer will be, "No." It's every kind of sore throat (scratchy, itchy, stinging, burning, dry, sharp) all rolled into one."

Fantastic. I can feel it coming on and I'm hoping I can just collapse. There's no way that I'm recording my voice this week for any reporting assignments. I will sound like a poor defeated sheep caught in a snowstorm (intermittently blasted with furnace air as this apartment would have it).

Why do I keep sweating?