Tucson is officially flu central this week. At least one (and possibly three) of my co-workers have been knocked down by the wonder that is this flu season, and I am NOT looking forward to sharing in their experience.
The janitor accuses me of giving him his illness (though I never had a fever), then he gave it to The Man Plague. Somehow Tirebiter got it (and he actually has a confirmed case) and now its all my psychosomatic self can do to not be convinced I have it too.
No temperature, anyway. Crossing my fingers.
Fall, after fits and starts, is here. It is chilly at night (for us) so the urge to get out and play paintball/go on longer bikerides/camp out with The Grrrls is strong. Of course, Mystery Man is arriving on or about the 16th of next month and we have all but one weekend jammed to the jugular between now and then, but hey: was a nice thought.
For those of you thinking of moving to Tucson: Phoenix is nice this time of year and they have waaay more freeways to careen around on. Go there. Even better? They have an Ikea. Run along. Visit if you must, but just know that Tucson is a dirty little dirt town (without an Ikea! The nerve!) full of liberals and some REALLY crazy right-wingers (but they all want to move to Phoenix) to even it all out.
I only bring this up because the number of interesting almost-accidents I had with out-of-state-plates on the 4 mile drive home tonight was beyond compare. Seriously: go to Phoenix.
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