The flu and I had an unofficial agreement: we don't bother each other. It wouldn't infect me, and I wouldn't call it at 3am to leave obnoxious messages on its answering machine. Well, guess what I'm doing every night at 3am for the next two weeks? Ring ring, you treacherous bastard!

I'm just getting over the flu, and it has been terrible few days. In fact, I was going to start posting here on February 1, but I spent that day sleeping, coughing, and occasionally groaning. The next day was better, but then the third knocked me back out. I had a miracle rebound just before the Super Bowl, which even I think is suspicious. But I've been getting better since then. Maybe Tom Brady's tears of defeat are magical. That sounds about right.

Speaking of which, what a super week this has been. Sunday was the Super Bowl and yesterday was Super Tuesday. Most other Mondays have low self-esteem already (Memorial and Labor Days not included), but this past Monday must have been incredibly depressed. At best, it was Super Filler Day, but that's like showing up to a black-tie event with a tuxedo t-shirt. "A" for effort, but security is still giving you the bum's rush.

The rest of the week doesn't even need a Super for people to like it. Wednesday doesn't have to try. People will say "Today isn't super at all. It's like a Monday, but better by two whole days." Meanwhile, Super Filler Day will continue to weep into its tacky tux t-shirt. Thursday is the last "real" work day, so that momentum keeps people going through to Friday, which doesn't have to do anything and it's always a fan favorite. King Saturday, of course, is always super. Plus, I have it on good authority (my own) that Saturday is actually Superday, just with a disguise. Superman puts glasses on his face, Superday puts "atu" over its name. Both are heroes in my book.