Southern Comfort

I think we weathered the flu-storm and it is breaking, but on Sunday:

AP was battling a nearly 103 fever in an air-conditioned room. I fed him drugs and pressed a cold compress to his brow, forehead, and neck. As I tried to cool him, I spoke in my best southern belle accent.

"Husband, I nevah doubted you'd return from the woe-ah. But when you'd left, parta me left right along. As a fancy lady, I knew only indoor pastimes, all things respectable, I had no way to support ma-self after you'd gone to fight for the South. When ma pa, the good preacha died, and I could no longa sustain, so I hi-ed a rough girl hand. She was everythin I wasn't, but under her firm guide, I learned to work the land and even killed a cock. Two women, workin the land as any man could, maybe bettah. We had hour struggles, the wintah, men tryin to take advantage, but we sustained with the help of Jack White of the White Stripes. Then you returned ta me, against all odds, but I feah your chances ain't so good. Husband, I think you may get shot on Cold Mountain right after we make love foah the first time. Just a feelin. Shit ain't it. But rest now. Build your strength."