It’s been a rough couple of weeks, folks. My wife, the lovely Mischa Malikov decided that contracting the plague was a wise course of action. Being a loving and thoughtful wife, she of course shared it with me almost immediately. Until this past year or so, I haven’t had any form of medical insurance since I got out of the army. So I generally just power through being sick and hope I don’t die. It had worked so far. I finally caved in and went to the doctor. High grade fever for 5 days apparently is something frowned upon by the medical community, or so I was told by my doctor.
I’m still not sure if the medication she gave me was just that awesome, or if I was at the end run of my bronchitis anyways, but the day after I saw my doctor, I felt much better. Just in time to have forgotten completely about the California Night’s gig. >.< So I am sitting on the couch with Mrs. Malikov, just finished dinner, commenting on how wonderful it is to feel halfway normal again, when the phone rings. It’s Stromboli. Hello? Where am I? I’m on the couch at home. Where should I be? …. Oh shit!
Needless to say, the wife and I threw ourselves into the shower, and made it to the studio just in time for the taping. It’s funny now, only because the other acts and the people doing the taping were awesome enough to rearrange the schedule on the fly while we broke several land-speed records in a Hyundai. Fun little gig, though. I hope to do it again sometime. When I’m not almost dead.
All’s well that ends well, though. And now I feel like a normal person. Work is so much better without a fever.