So this morning I’m listening to Tim & Al on the radio as I drive in to work, and they’re interviewing a guy who’s written a new book about the Spanish Flu of 1918. He says it killed about 100 million people, about twice as many as was thought.
Ironically, the author admits to Tim & Al that he sounds hoarse this morning because he’s got the flu himself.
Then I get to the office and our freight manager tells me our forwarder in Houston, who’s handling a big shipment of pipe to Thailand for us, is having trouble getting important paperwork to us because half his office is out sick–with the flu.
The guy who sits across from me, who spent most of yesterday coughing and glassy-eyed, didn’t come in to work this morning.
Of course, none of this would bother me much if my wife hadn’t written such a creepy novel about a strain of flu created to depopulate the world.