The Sick Daddy

Countdown to Delivery: 27 days
Due date: 4/18/10

Been a week now.  I've missed two and a half days at work and still coughing up science experiments.  Twice I had to look to make sure it wasn't a valuable piece of equipment that I just sent hurling into a handkerchief.   (cough, cough).   Dr. G says its bronchitis.  I say that I inhaled rubbing alcohol into my lungs along with a match.  Guess I'm going to die.

That's not so bad, I guess.  I'm worth more dead than alive now.  My daughter can continue in private school.  My new baby can be born with her college tuition already in the bank.  Marie can sleep without snoring.  Paradise.  (cough, cough).

Let's see.  There's a lot to do before I croak.  Got to sort out the train stuff in the basement so that Marie can sell it off.  That will take three and one half years.  Better clean out the garage.  Another half a year, I suppose.  (cough, cough).  And the yard.  Got to get the moss out of the back yard.  That's three growing seasons.  Shit, I can't die yet.  Little Katherine will be out of college by the time I'm through.  Besides, I want to see what she looks like.  From the ultrasound I think she is going to have Marie's nose.

Ok, so I better do what the wife says.  I'll stay home tomorrow and sit in bed.  Sleep, read, watch tv.  Honey, bring me food day.  I'll probably get poisoned.  (cough, cough).  Actually, Marie is very kind to me when I get sick.  She's the best wife around.  And the best round wife!

The woods are lovely, dark and deep...(cough, cough)...but I have promises to keep.