It happens every year at the same time. Mid-November I get so sick it knocks me "out of the box." I feel it come on slowly, first in the lungs and throat, then it disappears for about a day, fooling me into thinking I somehow beat it. Then it comes on full force evolving into a debilitating sinus infection that impacts my whole being body and soul.
This year I was smart and instead of "riding it out" for days as it tightens its grip, I went to a doctor immediately and was - happily - prescribed the proper medication, shortening (somewhat) its intensity.
Last year I battled a week's worth of pain and suffering that led to an inability to physically remove myself from bed. I forced myself to the doctor on the fifth or sixth day, received antibiotics, which kicked it out in short order.
This year, I received antibiotics quickly, the suffering wasn't as deadly-seeming and I only missed a couple days of work, with final stages ebbing over the weekend.
I'll be right as rain come Monday, happily bounding to the workplace knowing full well I'll be able to enjoy a long Thanksgiving holiday healthy and wise.
So why The War of the Worlds? Because I think the aliens were invaded by an alien (to them) infection not unlike my annual bout that eventually killed them at the film's forehead-slapping conclusion (I'm talking the 1953, Byron Haskin directed film).
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