January 12 update: BEES FLEW. HUMANS HAD THE FLU.
Last week, in a miserable, flu-induced state of mind, I was restlessly roaming the house. For no particular reason, I climbed upstairs to the roof and peered out the window. Flying bees!
So I thought, “It must be warm!” (Well, warmish, as it turned out — about 57˚ F /14˚ C.) So what did I do in my fever-addled condition? Naturally, I trotted out onto the roof in bare feet (and wearing only my sushi pajamas) to take a picture in what was a surprisingly brisk breeze. (I’ve discovered, I don’t make my best decisions with a fever.)
Now it’s Sunday. The temperature has dropped. (That would be the air temperature. My personal temperature is still a bit high.) The bees that flew on Thursday, fly no more. But me? I still have the flu. Should I really be surprised?












