Do you remember the old Agatha Christie story, "Ten Little Indians"? Ten people are invited to be guests at a mysterious mansion on a distant island, and one by one they are all killed off until only one is left...
I kind of feel that way myself. First BrainyBoy v8.95 got sick, then Tink. Friday Laura called me on the way home from a meeting in Oak Ridge with the grand and glorious news that she, too had succumbed. A day later and she's recovering, but still weak and sore.
I feel like that final poor Christie victim, as she watched her compatriots killed off one by one, knowing that she was next.
It's Saturday evening about 11:15pm. So far, I'm fine.
So far...
UPDATE: Monday morning, 12:33am. Still fine....
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