Dear Dieary,

Ha ha.

Do you get it, Diary? I said "Dear Dieary" - ha ha ha roflmaollolololol!!!111!!1.

It's a pun.

And why, Diary, should I be writing a post such as this, with a title like "Blood" and a pun on the word "die"?

All very simple, Diary: I'm dying.

Maybe.

For the past two weeks, I've driven myself into the ground. Finally closing on the condo (much more work than I expected), and doing a lot of stuff for Channel 9, much of which I'm realizing won't lead anywhere.

It's the first time in seven years that I haven't gotten a flu shot, and it's the first time in seven years that I've gotten the flu.

I've gotten plenty of flu-like things, but the real flu is different. It comes with the high fever, the body aches, the headache, exhaustion, and, in keeping with my tradition of always being sicker than everybody else, blood.

To be specific, I've coughed up blood for the past two days.

The first day, I was all, "Oh. Blood. That's odd," and then went to work, thinking it was nothing important.

The second day (today), I was all, "Oh. Blood. I'm probably dying," and then told Jeff I wouldn't be coming in today.

As if things weren't already fantastic, my vision started to go blurry a couple hours ago.

All in all, it feels a lot like the time I got meningitis. That's a story I haven't told yet, but ought to. It involves all sorts of fun things like me driving myself to the hospital while blacking out at the wheel, arriving at the emergency room, passing out on a bench, waking up some time later, going in to see someone, getting all kinds of bad news from a doctor type person, and then passing out again, this time for four hours, in the examination room next door (the examination room I was told not to enter, and certainly not to sleep in - two rules I chose to break on account of my inability to walk at the time).

I think the similarity of this flu to meningitis is the reason I haven't gone to the doctor yet. I'm going tomorrow, but I don't want to. Anybody out there who has had a spinal tap should understand why I have a fear of talking to a doctor while showing symptoms of something that feels like meningitis.

All the while - as I've been sick, as I've been working, and as I've been closing on the condo - I've written a few posts, none of which have gone up. It's like I can find the time to write 'em, but I just can't hit the Post button.

Maybe I'll go back and put some of the stuff up.

It's not like I have anything else to do while I lie here and die with my bloody pulmonary ejecta and blurry vision.

Hopefully I'll be alive long enough to do that.

But, if I'm not, Diary, then I want you to know that I love you, and that, if I die, you can have my car. I realize it won't do you much good. It's just one of those things that jerks put in their wills to piss everybody off.

Speaking of wills, I'm going to go write mine while I still can.

Tah, Diary.