CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- I write this while under the influence of influenza. On New Year's Eve, while others were imbibing, my alcohol came via Nyquil. What says "This new year will be better than last!" louder than spending the start of it flat on your back?
With a cat on your chest, a dog on each side and one at your feet.
And a growing mountain of tissues on the nightstand.
My daughter was away with friends and my husband occupied with a large rush edit job, so I stacked reading material and animals around me and decided I'd simply make the best of it. Wasn't a weekend stuck in bed exactly what I'd been wishing for?
Except I couldn't focus well enough to read and was too fevered to tolerate hot animals against me. Normally, I try to sleep bugs away, but this particular bug came with persistent tickling cough and a side order of insomnia that even Nyquil couldn't conquer.
And so, to entertain myself during these many long days, I've been watching shows on Netflix streaming. Not just any shows, though. Mine have a theme.
It started rather simply, with me watching "The Stand," the miniseries adapted from Stephen King's novel about the U.S. after the super-flu. There was something oddly comforting about watching a movie featuring people who looked even worse than me.