On Thursday night, I wasn't feeling so well, so I was happy to have my iPad to watch Matt Moore's start against the Yankees. I lasted four innings before moving into sickness-induced dreams, one about a metal lizard and another about these orange baseball cards which I thought I was dreaming about in the dream because I couldn't recognize the player's names. The 36 or so hours since have consisted of a ton of medicine, inconsistent sleep and hot and cold spells, but the end result is that I'm not going to be performing tonight with the Pudding Thank You folks in Chicago. They're still putting on a show (and it's sure to be funny; they're very talented), and while I wish I was going to be there, I'm sitting here trying to end this paragraph so I can lay down again. So my apologies to Pudding Thank You, and I hope to do the show again soon.