Mark was in town this weekend, which was great fun. However, it led me to do the one thing I’ve tried to avoid doing at all costs while unemployed: I left the house.

This had two dire consequences. I am now a) broke and b) sick.

A) was expected and worth it. I do miss at least pretending I have a life, and it was nice to eat something other than another crappy frozen Healthy Choice dinner.

B), however, is proving more problematic. I initially blamed Mark and his Chicago-style germs, all covered in cheese and mustard.

But really, the problem is that I have had little human contact other than going to the gym for the last two months and my immune system was basically asleep in a dark corner of my pancreas when I needed it most.

Mark, his constitution hale and hearty from being tempered in the snows and bars of Chicago, was completely unaffected.

So now I’m left exhausted, coughing up a lung, with my nose running like a leaky faucet, but at least glad that I don’t have to work through this nonsense.

I shall provide further updates when the exhaustion lifts to the point that I can type more than 50 words a minute without feeling like I’ve run three miles.