I thought, am I getting sick? I coughed a few times, experimentally. Then not so experimentally. I coughed phenomenologically. Or perhaps existentially. It was a for real cough, not a trial.
The historian asked, "Are you coming down with something?"
I said, "I don't know." I thought about it. "I think it might just be the smoke." Because, as you know, the people, in a patriotic suburban neighborhood such as my own, the fourth of July is Fireworks City, and we're not just talking about a few sparklers.
We went out into the night, late, with Bruiser. We navigated the smoke like Aguirre in Aguirre, the Wrath of God navigating the Orinoco River on a misty morning. I coughed a few more times.
I went to bed and thought, I'll wake up in the morning, the smoke will be cleared, I'll be fine.
the view from Sick.
But when I did wake up this morning, my head and eyes heavy, sneezing, I thought, shit. And took a DayQuil.
(Parenthetical: The people: I need to see a movie today. We have had all sorts of important and fun activities, many of which have kept us away from the SLC on the weekends. We are behind in our movie-going. This, despite the fact that I have made many efforts to see movies such as the Joss Whedon Much Ado About Nothing, Frances Ha, Oblivion, Man of Steel, and others I can't remember at the moment because of my heavy head and eyes. I was and am counting on this weekend to make a dent in that deficit! Is that too much to ask? I ask you! I mean really.)
After the historian's bike ride, and my second DayQuil:
Me: ...but I want you to know, I'm going to try really hard to feel good enough so we can go to a movie this afternoon.
The historian: Well, please do your best.
Me: I'm going to give it my best effort.