Yesterday, Steve and Ceara came over and brought me soup and apple juice to help nurse me through my flu. I was so sick I could barely string two words together. Today, I still ache a bit, but the ibuprofen has taken the edge off and I'm feeling much better.
Today, I open my email and see 45 messages to the Portland Industrial Goth mailing list. As these all had popped up in less than a day and it was heavier than normal traffic, I knew it was another flame war. I was tempted to delete everything, but with the morbid curiosity of someone who has to watch the train wreck, I read the damned things. I'm sick. What else do I have to do? The one thing that struck me about the episode is that so many people feel they have to get the last word in. Not just that, but they have to get the last word in in front of several hundred people. Ugh.