Since I have been suffering from some particularly nasty flu-like/allergy-like [?] symptoms for the last six weeks, I finally gave in and went to see a doctor. My doctor is a short Asian man, probably around 35 years old. He's a pleasant enough fellow, in spite of the fact that that he once gave me a rectal exam. He has an odd quirk - whenever I am speaking to him, he constantly nods his head up and down, intoning "Uh huh...uh huh...", as if he feels I need some kind of constant affirmation of his attention. However, unlike some other doctors I have dealt with, this gentleman actually tells me about things when something has gone wrong in my body. He went into an impromptu biology lesson yesterday, extolling the virtues of my sinuses, all the while gesturing to a detailed chart, similar to the image below. Turns out the cause of my prolonged torment is a stouthearted sinus infection.





SOME OTHER GUY'S SINUSES


I am now on a strict regiment of powerful, bacteria-destroying antibiotics. I hope these magic pills help, because i am in misery.

Furni

A while back, I saw an incredible Danish Modern dining set at at antique store downtown.






When the chairs are pushed in, it looks like this:





Did a bit of inquiring, and the designer is a Hans Olsen. Not much information on him is available. Too bad the set sold already. It would have looked perfect in our new dining room.

Tales of the Wind

Today, I held my windpipe between my thumb and forefinger, and squeezed. It gave, cracking audibly and collapsing inwards a bit. The incident was quite disturbing. Ever since I quit smoking, I've been living in a delicate, whimsical fear that I'm going to be left with throat cancer or some evil variant of it as a result of my smoke-filled years. Having a windpipe that cracks inward does little to ameliorate my fears.