Okay, taking a quick personal inventory, I see that I’m sporting severe back pain exacerbated by sneezing fits brought on by a cold, which is producing both mucus and mucous, and also some species of snotty tick. And best of all, I’m sitting in LAX again (I’ve spent so much time in airports recently that I’ve developed an overmastering urge to sell people $25 bags of Eagle Snacks). My only hope is to get seated next to that annoying kid who continually kicks the seat in front of him so I can exhale contagiously in his direction the entire flight, until he finally staggers off the jetway, sunken eyed, sweat-glazed, and sallow, like Patrick Dempsey after he caught that super-Monkeypox on a plane in Outbreak. In other words, as long as I’m going to be miserable, I might as well get credit for Community Service hours.
We’re spending the weekend in Seattle to celebrate Mary’s birthday, and take in the Cinematic Titanic live show at the King Cat Theater. We’re also hoping to squeeze in the Seattle Underground tour, which takes junketing spelunkers through the forgotten subterranean city beneath the city, because I figure that aggravating my claustrophobia and lifelong fear of premature burial is the best way to take my mind off my mucus. We’ll drop in from time to time if the WiFi is good (maybe if I’m lucky I can find a Starbucks somewhere).