And since it goes without saying that children~especially mine~and little Timmy~are the center of their own Universe and we are but mere peasants created to serve them, he thought you might assume that I was writing in code and actually referring to my own life...and suggesting that my puddin' pie was of ill repute.
Which he most assuredly is NOT.
His repute is VERY healthy, people.
No swine flu for a pig husband here, folks.
Just a tuna-eatin' sweat pot, who also happens to still be sick. (normal flu, though~no oinkin')
What gave it away?
Well, let's see. Could it have been his turkey butt hair that he "couldn't find the strength" to comb down before going out into public? Now that is some SERIOUS eye candy. Yeah, baby!
Was it his Zombie-like slog and stomp as he trudged (I glided) through the store...for a full five minutes...until he had to collapse in a perspiring heap into the massaging chair?
Or maybe it was the high pitched buzz that Sterling mistook for a bold, aggressive...if invisible...mosquito, therefore swiping violently at the empty air around his own head and ears, until he finally figured out it was his own wheezing? (at least he found the humor in that...tender mercy)
Any of these might have helped you to figure out his health...which is indeed~continuing to be annoyingly ill.
But once again, I announce to one and all...DEFINITELY NOT his repute. :)