As a postscript to today’s poem:  I’m been fighting off a wily and rapidly mutating virus which has been plaguing me since bloody Easter.  It’s finally decided to just render me totally useless with fatigue and fever.

I very much want to start mailing out books, especially since a number of you will be heading home from college and will thus have a change of address in a week or so.  But I’m also my only employee at the moment, and I’m not in shape to execute a massive mailing effort.  Also I would be coughing all over the wares, and the thought of any of you inadvertently contracting this nonsense is not a fond one.

So I’m going to try not to anger my loved ones by wearing myself out even more and prolonging this dreaded illness.  I’ll start mailing out in a couple of days.

And now I’m going to go back to bed, where I am going to take nyquil and ibuprofen and albuterol and drink a lot of tea and fade in and out of consciousness until this is all over.