I am the first to admit that I need to stop and relax. I get...excitable. This serves me well most of the time but there are days, like today when it serves me quite poorly. By noon I had made my apology phone calls to all of the people that had the displeasure of speaking to me this morning as I was, in fact, a rage monster.

In my defense, I'm sick. And there was no coffee. Obviously this sent me into a state of hysteria. I cried. I sure did. I'm only a little ashamed about that (I meeeean, there was no coffee).  But I've recovered. My body aches are beginning to subside and I can feel small amounts of energy creeping back in. I am bucking up. And apologizing to the world. I have learned some valuable lessons in the trenches dealing with the avalanche of viruses (Yerp. More than one) that attacked my family over Christmas.

And I am confident that I am bringing up the rear. All of this sickness ends with me. I am book-ending this shit. So help me Santa Claus.

There were a bugabillion craptastic things about our Christmas week but in there we found some good. Some straight up lessons to learn. Christmas miracles and all that. The Universe aligned for one spectacular day and gave all of us a beautiful reprieve on Christmas morning. No one barfed or had a fever. No one. All bets were off the day after but that's ok, man. The reprieve was enough to remind that there will come a day when no one is sick. That it will happen.

Right?