Still recovering. Went back to Un Deux Trois for brekkie and I picked at a bowl of oatmeal and had a half cup of coffee. Those who know me are seriously worried about my health with that last statement. One-half-cup of coffee? Damn, he is sick.

It’s my own fault. I miscounted how many cancer pills I had left and realized I was going to run out before we got home. I know better than to just let them run out and be off them completely, so I started stretching out the number of hours between doses, hoping to make them last until I got home.

Apparently, one of those extended intervals was enough to have the stuff out of my system completely and it was not good. Chills, fever, stomach cramps, loss of appetite, the works. I spent hours at a time curled up in a fetal position under the covers, trying to get warm.

Rob went to see a matinee show, “Maybe Happy Ending”, about a couple of robots who fall in love. He said it was very good. By the evening, I was ready to venture out to see our evening show, “Six”.

It’s about the six wives of Henry VIII - and aside from that, I had no idea what to expect. The show opens with a single-note piano melody on ‘Greensleeves’ before the curtain is ripped away and there’s fog and six ladies dressed in some kind of high-couture Mad Max garb, there’s a rock band behind them, and the opening number was an absolute assault on the senses - in a good way. I got pretty excited for the rest of the show.

Unfortunately, the whole point of the show was these ladies’ stories and I couldn’t understand any of the lyrics. At all. Whatever story was there was completely lost on me (and Rob, verified after the show). Some of the music was good. Some not. At least it was only around 90 minutes with no intermission, so we were off to dinner early. Don’t get me wrong, it was a fun show, but I wouldn’t see it again.

I spent most of the show having hot flashes, which was awesome because [1] I’ve been freezing for two days solid and [2] that means the meds are back in my system. Felt good enough to head over to Joe Allen, Rob’s favourite restaurant, a cute place whose walls are adorned with posters for Broadway shows that flopped. I actually ate a decent dinner for the first time in awhile. Maybe I’ll be OK.

On the way home, Times Square was still Times Squaring.

Hopefully, a more interesting report tomorrow.

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