Out of the Ground, Into the Sky, Out of the Sky, Into the Dirt.

I used to be unkillable. I could go through an entire winter suffering maybe one bout of sickness.

I've been sick at least twice in the past few months.

One too many nights spent trudging through inclement weather, underdressed.

I was feeling it Friday, it was sinking in by Saturday afternoon, and by Sunday I was out cold. Thought I could sleep it away all Sunday, but it wasn't much better by the Monday mourn. Took my first sick day since I started doing these gigs. Slept more, watched screeners. Thought about hitting the gym but decided to take it easy and rest up.

Tuesday mourn, I somehow woke up feeling even worse. Swollen lymph nodes, sore throat, black thoughts.

No matter. I'd shake it off. At my pay rate, I couldn't afford two sick days. Took a long shower, staunched a bloody nose, hacked up a lung, bundled up. Hit the gym for a light run before heading to work.

Then a persistent cough betrayed me. Like a pipe-cleaner stuck in my throat. A prickly itch that could only be scratched by coughing.

The guys sent me home, in a teamster van. I chased down the UPS guy to get my latest screener. Got some chicken noodle soup to go and retired to The Tomb. Hoping I can heal myself enough to not miss more goddamn work.