It isn't that the Finsters suddenly started to get along perfectly, or that they woke up one morning and all look alike and sound alike and some of them stopped hanging from the ceiling, or that they all turned into one big boring finch. And it isn't that Peanut suddenly stopped being Master of the Universe and no longer required my constant and undivided attention. No, none of that. It's just that I am a Walking Contagion. It started out with pinkeye in my left eye, then turned into pinkeye in both eyes — because, you know, my right eye was feeling all left out — and then it progressed into strep throat. Which, for those of you who haven't had it in recent memory, means that It Hurts Too Much To Swallow. No joke, I cringe whenever I have to swallow, I would rather spit than swallow, my head is so full of mucous if I tried to shove an ice pick into my ear it wouldn't go, I really need to trim my nails but I'm afraid to get so close to sharp objects and besides I need at least the nail on my index finger to rootle out those hard and crusty boogers from my nose, and I repeat: Do they ever give you morphine for a sore throat? Because It Hurts Too Much To Swallow. Or breathe, for that matter. If you have any suggestions, let me know at FinsterGirlatthefinstersdotcom.

The good news is, I am totally distracted from that alleged bird allergy.