Well. That something that was a little “off” with me? Turns out it was the flu.



It's been trying to get me since the beginning of the year, and now that it has, I’m hoping – that as for the fictional characters of yore – my death-defying illness will beget a transformation.



When I arise, weakened (and, one might hope, a few pounds thinner), from my sweat-drenched bedclothes, having faced raging fevers and daunting hallucinations, I will face my life with a grimmer, but more clear-eyed purpose.



I will not waste my time on those who don’t have energy for me. I will not take advantage of the kindness of those who have crushes on me. I will look for love in more unexpected places, and from the more unexpected people who show their shy faces like little flowers after a big spring rain. I will concentrate on doing nice things for the people who do nice things for me, and not try to earn anyone’s love.



And next time I have a fever of 102 degrees, I will not lock my keys inside the car and have to wait an hour for Triple A to come. I simply will not.