Hey Team,

I’m too young to die. I better not be this sick because people keep calling this a bucket list! So help me if I just keep getting sicker and sicker until the last thing gets crossed off the list then know this: I will not hesitate to add a LOT more things to the list.

Ugh! The last thing in the world I want to do right now is write. I want nothing more than to curl up in a little ball in the dark and be unconscious until this all blows over. But this stupid cough and the alternating between sweating and shivering is NOT making that an easy proposition.

Death Bed

Plus, I keep having to go back and reread these stupid sentences because I can’t hang onto a train of thought to save my life and proper grammar keeps flinging itself out the window. (Even more so than usual.) Now that I think about it I don’t even have anything useful and/or interesting to say. I’m just babbling like and idiot in print. (Is it still called “in print” if it’s never actually printed out?)

My plan was to head up to Lowell last night and then to Scranton tomorrow but while I was in New York I started feeling a little sick and I thought, “That would suck a lot to be surfing a strangers couch with a fever.” So I put it off.

That’s when I took the walk to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and thanks to my superhuman ability to overestimate myself I starting thinking, “Bah! I feel fine! This will all blow over in a couple hours anyway. Bring on the bus! Nothing can stop an Amtrekker!”

It was about two and a half hours deep into the bus ride that I started to realize things were going horribly wrong. I think it was the uncontrollable coughing and shivering that gave it away.

Bottom line: I jumped off the bus in Boston so I could die at a friend’s house instead of a stranger’s or will myself back to good health.

Being sick is a stupid idea.

Wish me luck.

I’m done.

Brett.





Anyone want to help pay for health insurance?


Don’t let me stop you.