About six weeks ago on the second day of my family reunion in Hawaii, I came down with a fever and a cough. I thought it was the flu. One miserable week later, I came back to California, went to the doctor, and found out I had walking pneumonia. Who the hell gets pneumonia in the middle of summer in Hawaii? The next few weeks weren't great, either, but it was kind of neat spending so much time in my new house.
Getting that sick really made me appreciate how great it is when I am well. I'm not 100% yet, but I'm getting there.
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