I'm dying.
The test results just came back. I have ebola. And anthrax.
At first I thought it was just ebola. That wasn't a big deal. I've got ebola beat:

It's the anthrax I'm worried about.
This is, like, the third or fourth time I've had anthrax, but I think this is it, you know? I mean, like, it.
Usually, I just wait for it to pass. It's kind of like a bad cold with a hint of having been hit in the face by a high speed Kevlar-reinforced concrete sea turtle. Not so bad.
But, paired with ebola, it's too much. More than I can handle. I threw up my liver yesterday and realized that this is probably the end. I'm getting along fine without the liver, but what happens when my kidneys dissolve? And my bladder?
So, I have a few things to say before I shed this mortal coil.
First, it looks like I'm almost definitely going to get the condo. My realtor and current landlawd, Ryan, drove me out to a storage facility a couple days ago where we spent an hour digging through paperwork to find some things of mine necessary for the financing process. It was great fun. Perfect if you're into being cold, sick, and bored. And, though the team of elite Microsoft-issued doctors watching over me night and day, using the latest nano medical laser cyber technology to stave off the diseases, believes that I'm going to kick the bucket anytime between now and 2099, I still feel that this near-owning of a condo was a success, and a success is what I needed. You don't know what it's like to have your morale taken down a notch by the knowledge that Death is ringing the doorbell of your not-quite-purchased condo, preparing to invite himself in to lead you down to Hades where you shall cross the river Styx (provided the proper burial rites have been performed) to land on the other side - to land in Eternity. You just don't know. And don't even try. You can't know my suffering. You simply aren't deep enough to comprehend the tragedy that is my life.
Second, I wanted to wish all of you a happy whatever holiday it is that you celebrate around this time of year. There's, like, five or a thousand or something different religions, and I know you all celebrate different things. Whether you pray to a god that looks like Santa Claus or a giant glowing hyper-intelligent space-squid, I wish you the best. If you believe there's a giant mollusk in the sky that's listening to your prayers, it's not my place to say otherwise. I applaud you and your courage to believe in the space squid, no matter how messed up I think your are or how much you disgust me. Bravo.
Finally, I wanted to thank Carl. Because of my unfortunate state of health, I haven't been able to travel outside the Seattle area to visit friends and family this holiday season. Rather than sit around in my room, contemplating my coming demise, I've decided to be active in these, the last few days of my time on this planet. This choice to be active brought me into the office this weekend. I'm actually in here now - yes - at the office on the eve of both Christmas and my life. I had to come in anyway to get a form I need so that I can request another form I need that will ultimately prove to my lender that I have a job and that I'll pay back whatever money he gives me for the condo. Not that it matters since I'll be dead soon. I just like to finish what I start.
While here, I couldn't help but notice that Carl sent me presents in about twenty cubic feet of packaging. I am now the proud owner of an ultraviolet ray emitting, bacteria murdering toothbrush holder (would that I could have found this gift before falling prey to the duet of maladies which assault me now). I also have a book. And another book. And a tea strainer. And a 500GB external hard drive. And other stuff. Even a bag in which to carry it all home.
It's all very kind, and I appreciate it. Even though the physical stress of carrying all these presents home will surely be the final nail in my coffin, I know that Carl meant well when he sent me this abundance of goodly booty.
It's especially kind considering that Carl has never done anything but help me. Putting me on .NET Rocks. Getting me speaking gigs. Hooking me up with a contract. Flying me around the country for various reasons. Putting up the money and sweat to get my podcast going.
All unbelievably kind.
But now, I am tired. I'm loaded on cold medicine, ready to pass out. Hoping I'll wake up well enough that I can travel down to be with the family on Christmas day tomorrow, but I'm doubtful.
It seems I might pass Christmas with naught but the company of an ultraviolet ray emitting, bacteria murdering toothbrush holder.
Would that I could have found this gift before falling prey to the duet of maladies which assault me now...