I’m not kidding. We didn’t see a UFO, we saw a bunch of UFO’s.

It wasn’t that long ago, it was before, when the coronavirus was close, but still just something we were reading about.

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January has proven to be an asshole for the past five years in a row. We lived with illness and loss. Change and uncertainty. I mean, bad things happen in other months, but January has proven to be particularly brutal.

Now, we’re watching the president commit crime after crime and it seems like he’s pretty much getting away with it.

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My title comes from a line spoken by Frannie Goldsmith in The Stand which is a book by Stephen King where most of humanity dies from the flu. She says “who made flu” instead of the AC/DC lyric “who made who”.

And that makes me think of the movie Maximum Overdrive which is based on Stephen King’s short story, Trucks. The song Who Made Who by AC/DC is in that movie. When my older son, who is 32 now, was 3 years old, his favorite movie was Maximum Overdrive. I am a bad, bad mom. I’ve also seen that movie a thousand times.

But I really digress.

I had the flu last week and it truly sucked ass.

Last week was the first week my project at work was supposed to ramp up. We were bringing some stores up live on the new process. But that didn’t happen, because I was in my bed for most of the week.

I was so worried about things going wrong. I had no idea that I’d be botching up the roll out schedule before it really even started.

It is Sunday morning and this is the first day that I feel nearly human. I’m still tired, but I think by tomorrow, I should be okay.

So much looking forward to work tomorrow. I’m sure it will be a breeze.

Randy was a champ all week. He kept me in hot tea and popsicles. I ate an obscene amount of popsicles last week. Also, I might have to suspend writing this for a few minutes because I need another popsicle.

I watched a lot of bad TV. I even watched Jumanji: Welcome to The Jungle. On purpose. And I liked it.

One afternoon, I was bored, but getting out of bed wasn’t a great option because my fever gave everything a weird, swimmy feeling. Even the floor. I only risked walking when a trip to the bathroom was completely necessary.

Instead, I went on twitter and wrote Flu Haiku.

The cats sleep with me

Online shopping must die now

Cough syrup magic

All voices annoy

Cranky brain holds me hostage

Not fit for humans

I might be hungry

I might projectile vomit

Chinese for dinner?

Some dude objected to my use of the word “projectile” in that last haiku. I would tell you exactly what he said, but he has since deleted the tweet. He took me to task for misusing the word “projectile” because “projectile” isn’t a verb.

This was my response:

counting syllables

uses up my foggy brain

flu scoffs at grammar

The worst thing, though, the absolute worst thing, is because of my flu, I may have destroyed the earth. It’s also possible I saved it, but I’m not sure yet.

Let me explain.

I woke myself up from a fever dream because I could hear myself talking. Randy attempted to wake me at the same time because he could hear me talking.

I was dreaming about someone being in my house, except it was our old house. There were two doorways into the kitchen in that house and this person in my house would step to the left through one while I stepped to the right. I could hear him, but he kept stepping out of my line of vision. Then, he crawled up the wall and onto the ceiling. I said “what are you doing” over and over.

That is what woke me up. Me saying “what are you doing” over and over. Randy says that isn’t what I said, though.

He said it sounded like I was speaking perfectly formed words, except not in a language he’s heard. He said the words sounded like I was speaking in tongues.

So, obviously, in my fevered state, I was working some sort of Enochian spell. That could possibly destroy the world. You know, or save it. I have no idea. I don’t speak Enochian.

Well, except that one time. Either way, I don’t understand Enochian.

I also watched a lot of Supernatural which might explain my fear about accidentally starting the apocalypse.

So, now that I’ve burned through a bunch of PTO days and screwed up my project schedule, I am ready to go back to work.

I hope all of you are healthy. If you do get sick, I suggest stocking up on popsicles. They were magic.

Also, “projectile” is not a verb and don’t use it as such or you’ll upset that one guy from the internet.

Image courtesy of Pexels.