I had an absurd enough birthday last week that I feel that it needs a quick mention. Here I was on the day before my birthday doing my usual work on the computer, when I get a case of the afternoon tea-time sleepies. I can no longer look on the screen to get anything done, so I decide to get out and get some fresh air. It being the middle of the afternoon, the hottest part of an unreasonably warm spring day, I was confused as how I was still a little chilly in my sweatshirt and long pants.

By the time I got home, I realized that the only thing that I'd be doing for the rest of the day would be cocooning in the bed to stay warm. I'd been hit with one hell of a fever. I would be sweaty and clammy for the next two days, and I'd end up sleeping through almost my entire birthday. It certainly made this birthday not one of the ones I hope to tell the grandkids about.

'I remember my birthday in '06... my fever was so hot they used my forehead to light the candles...'

Actually, that does sound kind of grandpa-ish. It's always the bad experiences that make the best stories.

Don't feel bad for me fellow reader. It all worked out in the end. I had recovered by Friday afternoon, so my plans for a BBQ on Saturday went without a hitch. Kangaroo was eaten, as were with other meats, by my friends down here. A good time was had.

Also, there is a chance that a certain lady friend of mine will take me to the Opera this week. He he.