Guess what? I don't know how, and I don't know why, and I don't know when, and I don't know where, but I have contracted strep throat. Throatus streptococcus, if you prefer Latin. (Side note: Streptococcus is my favorite type of dinosaur. Mostly a leaf eater but not afraid to eat a fish every once in a while. It's admirable.) On Friday, the doctor told me the news, but because of my 100 degree fever, I thought she said "strip throat." (Bow chicka wow wow!) I'm just kidding! The doctor was a man.

So I've been resting pretty much all weekend, except when I left the house to infect a bunch of people in a class or on a plane. Life doesn't stop fighting on just because my immune system did. All week I thought it was indigestion. Turns out I was wrong, I'll admit it. Don't worry, I'm on a heavy dose of vitamin C, Motrin, and penicillin, or Salkus pillus, if you prefer Latin. So I'll be guzzling pills for the next week or so. I feel like one of Bill Cosby's lady friends, drinking a Cosbypolitan. (A Cosbypolitan is just a regular Cosmopolitan that has been garnished with the date rape drug.)

Listen, I'll get better. I'll recover. Right now I'm kind of sluggish. But I'll get there. I'm doing more improv, always a high point of my week. I'm writing stuff here and elsewhere, I'm working, and I'll record another episode of Mono a Monotone later this week. Good stuff is happening. Open your eyes to the world around you. I'll leave you with this: If you really think about it, a baker thinks that every day is Pi Day.