The flu bug always hits twice!

I’d just stopped running to the loo and seemed to be on, shall we say “solid” footing when my stomach flu morphed into the regular garden variety bug complete with constant sneezing, runny nose, sore throat and the general malaise that accompanies most people who feel they’ve been run over by a bus. On the plus side, those hours of being bed ridden did enable me, after praying for a quick death, and when that prayer wasn’t answered, to rent The Devil Wears Prada from On Demand.

Since I’d read the book some time ago, I did notice a few changes in the movie, but did appreciate the wonderful job the casting director did in getting Anne Hathaway and Meryl Streep for the parts. The same sick feeling I had for poor Andi as she endeavored to please a demanding boss translated well from book to movie, but I was never quite sure if that was because Meryl Streep did such a mahvelous job playing the bitch or simply and empathetic flash back from when I worked for Dan Ruth, a nursing editor who was known for his foul moods, slamming doors and often refusal to acknowledge my existence for hours at a time.

In the case of both that assistant position and my second cootie infection, I suppose whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. And since I’ve managed, on multiple occasions, to dance with the Devil and live, I must be ready for a strong woman competition by now.