Ha. I’m not even downtown at Flu Central Station (aka New York Comic-Con 2013) and I’m feeling like someone’s scraping my throat with sandpaper wrapped in barbed wire. Yuk. It’s the damned library here with its wheezing teens, old people and kids and man, whatever I got socked with is fast moving and nasty. Bleh. Thankfully, I’ve some Throat Coat tea at home, enough limes to open a fruit stand and a fresh jar of honey. I may have to break out my chicken soup making skills for this one, but I’ll need to defrost that bird taking up space in the freezer and get to work cooking it for the carcass. Anyway, updates will be slow this weekend just so I’m alive for a few meetings next week I’ve already scheduled. I need to be careful with my health these days, as my current insurance plan goes something like this:

(thanks, frankpilarski!)

Did I mention I despise being sick (especially when it’s not my fault)? Eh, welcome to the human race, I suppose. I don’t even want to KNOW what my fellow writer types are going to be dealing with after NYCC is over. Usually, you’re hoarse, have tired legs and feet, maybe a few paper cuts and if you imbibed from one of those public fountains at the event, that combined with whatever bad food you’ve eaten will get you into solitary confinement in the comfort of your own bathroom for a wee bit too long. OK, that’s a bit of TMI for some of you out there, but I’m just telling it like it is…