Finally, finally, finally this blasted bacterial death-virus is on it's way out of my precious body.  (Unfortunately, it seems that overnight it jumped from my sinuses to Amberino's, and now she's on the cusp.  At least we have a little time to fight it, knowing what it can turn into.)  Earlier in the week, I assumed it was a passing thing, which was almost the death of me.  I went back to work on Thursday, partly because I thought I was on the up and up, and partly because I just really needed to be there that particular day.  I must have overdone it, because I woke up Friday morning in a bad, bad way, and spent the day home, hardly able to speak (incredibly sore throat) and with trouble breathing (congestion like NYC rush hour).  Between popping enough Vitamin C tablets to pee pure OJ, so much green tea sprouts grew from under my fingernails, and an almost-illegal amount of Mucinex D*, Saturday morning was exponentially better than the day before, and today I can see the finish line.  Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!

(* They say 'invest in what you know and use', so I'm thinking of buying out Adams Respiratory Therapeutics, the makers of Mucinex.  Highly recommended.)

Saturday, we spent 12pm - 4pm sitting around waiting for the plumbers to come fix the heating.  Because of their imperfect communication system, the workers assigned to the job - not the same guys who assessed the week before - didn't have all the necessary information before getting to our apartment.  The critical bit?  That bleeding the gigantic boiler would take 1-2 hours.  So when we once again got the last assigned slot of the day, which brought the guys to our place after 4pm, there was no time for them to actually do the job.  (The secretary at Vigilante made it sound like smaller jobs would be done after 4pm, if they're dispatched at a reasonably close time, so it's not like they're just watching the clock to get out of work.)  The guys that showed up were very nice, understanding, and apologetic.  The cats also really took a shining to them, but hey, our boys are sweet that way.  Amberino, on the other hand, was pretty f'in p'ed.  Not at the guys in particular, but the fact that we wasted our Saturday waiting for them, only to have to put it off another week.  (Had I not still been a little run down and expecting to lay around and rest throughout the day anyway, I would've been just as pissed off.)  So we're now the first appointment of the day next Saturday, at 8am.  Whoopee.

As the day got on, I was feeling better and better, and I upgraded my "Likelihood of Saturday Night Halloween Party Attendance Status" from "50-50" to "Probable" by about 5pm.  Amberino and I had purchased our costumes last week at Ricky's - who recently and conveniently opened up a store 2 blocks away from our apartment - just for last night's party.  Because Ricky's charges through the nose for triple-plasticized grab-bags of a single sweatshop-produced garment and two fragile, barely-passable accessories, and because I am cheap, my "Likelihood of Halloween Party Attendance" status was calculated hourly through cost-benefit analysis of amount paid for the crappy costume (a lot) and times it would be worn (once ever) against acceptability levels of recurring illness due to overexertion (coming off of Friday, very very low).  Unofficially, I was also considering how much I wanted to get Amberino in her costume.

But by 6 or 7pm, status was quickly upgraded to "Definite", and we suited up.  As long as I didn't talk too much, I said, I'll be fine.  Not surprisingly, I failed miserably at that, but thankfully I didn't pay a price, other than the likely humiliation to which I subjected myself by ranting against the government, pennies, or Amy Winehouse.  (Hey look!  There she / our host is now!")  My last minute tweak from 'pilot' to 'drunken pilot' ensured I was dressed for the role.  Confidence is always higher when you have a smoking hot stewardess at your side.

Good times, as always.  And the missus had a great idea this morning: to buy next year's costumes online now, since they're going on sale fast.  Yeah, it takes some of the fun out of the spontaneity of Halloween 2008, but we're too old to care more about that than the general pain of reliving this annually.  If we get in this groove, don't be surprised if we start giving everyone Christmas gifts in February.

Today is our monthly meeting of the minds at Ginger Man after a quick peek at an apparent neighborhood dog costume competition.  Other than that, lots of soup and eventual later-day depression of the reality that time cannot be stopped and tomorrow, no matter what, will be a Monday.

Reviews:
The Lives of Others  (4/5)   Amber: "Interesting topic, story, and setting.  Well done, kept me in suspense."  Eric: "Interesting topic, story, and setting.  Well done, kept me in suspense."
Dr. Strangelove  (3.5/5)  Eric: "Funny.  Comedically, definitely more for it's time than now, but forever relevant and overall entertaining."
28 Weeks Later  (4/5)  Amber: "Fast-paced, unpredictable, scary, different from the first but still really good, not Hollywood-ized at all."  Eric: "Hold me."

Stuck home sick today.  Throat burning, eyes watering, head pounding, nose running, temperature elevated, brain clouded.  For some reason, belly aching too.  I rarely get sick, except for my bi-annual allergy attack, and I hate missing work because of it (I'd rather go in, look sad, and get sympathy).  But between not wanting to talk, and not being able to focus, I'm pretty useless.  God knows I'm not adding to the attractiveness of the office, so I'm taking the lumps at home.  Ricola Corporation, my body is in your hands.  Please be gentle.

Also sick (sorta) is Baker.  He went to the vet this week to address the same 'ol story, which returned a few days ago: leaky rear faucet.  Dr. Ryan at the Hope Veterinary Clinic has him on some meds, and they'll both be getting strict wet food for a week, which they'll love.  There's also this powder we put in Baker's food.  I don't remember exactly what the purpose of that was - everything was pretty much 'for intestinal purposes' - but I didn't ask any questions.  Powder, pill, liquid, or cream, whatever helps him knock the ball over the fences.

He was such a good boy at the vet.  He's great in the carrier (with his Ugly Buddy, Deer), great with the nurse - despite being prodded for a temperature read - and great with Dr. Ryan, who was completed smitten with him.  He even sat on her lap as she typed on the computer.  She doesn't seem worried about this, though we need to continue running tests on his doings.  If anything, she was excited to see how big he got - he's twice as big as he was only 2 months ago, as big as Biscuit now.

So we will feed him, medicate him, and see how it goes.  Right now, he's sleeping next to me, while Biscuit takes a lap-nap.  The funny thing about it all is on Monday, we came home to a very ...messy... house, due to Baker's problem.  And of all days, and of all the comics, Penny Arcade runs this on the very same day: