I am writing this from my deathbed.
My wife Anita mocked me at the furniture store when I purchased it.
“What do we need with a deathbed?” she asked.
“But it’s 12 months same as cash,” I argued. “And it comes with a free death-nightstand.”
So anywhere, here I am on my deathbed, suffering from a crippling case of Type-A flu.
This is going to be a bad week…