"Rehab"

In baseball, when an injured player comes off the "Disabled List", they are sent down to the minors for an unspecified period of rehabilitation, allowing them to work their way back into shape before being recalled back to the Major Leagues.

Consider the following posts my blogatorial rehab, testing my energy, judgment and concentration to determine how close I am to returning to some version of full-time action.

I'm not at all sure that I'm ready.  It took me twenty minutes to write this introduction.  And the font on top is funky, and I can't fix it.

Oh, well.  Here we go.

While recovering from “Legionnaire’s Disease” – an epidemic I managed to contract all by myself – we spent ten days at our cabin in Michiana located on the border – not right on the border; the actual border is in the middle of a road – between Michigan (which is on Eastern Time) and Indiana (where our cabin is actually situated, which is on Central Time).

It tickled me to think that on, say, a Monday night at eleven P.M., I could look fifty feet across the street, where, in Michigan, it was already Tuesday.  

You enjoy small pleasures when you’re convalescing.

Anyway, driving to our cabin, we were listening to the radio.  As we proceeded along, the signal from the local station we had tuned into began slowly fading, as the signal for a nearby local station began to simultaneously get louder. 

Providing us with the unique auditory experience of listening to jazz and opera at the same time.

You know what?

It wasn’t bad.