First a quick word from last week. I really didn't think Jennifer's reply was all that harsh.  I had gone personal in my column, so she would have been hard-pressed to refrain from becoming personal in her reply. But, it is nice that people will stand up for me around here if they think I'm being treated unfairly. I wish I had more friends like that.

        But onto this week: tragedy struck this last Tuesday. I, the invincible, undefeatable and indomitable Dave Hines was taken down by a lowly head cold. Now I don't know about the rest of you, but when I get sick, all my self-reliance and maturity flees shrieking and gibbering into a dark corner of my soul.

        I want comic books. I want Gilligan's Island. I want peanut butter cracker sandwiches and Sprite. I want my mom to check on me every few minutes. I want the day to be cold enough that I can wrap myself in my big comforter and not roast to death. I want the real world to go away for a couple of days while I recoup.

        But unfortunately, it never does. Instead, I lay there alone, pondering the assignments that I am in no shape to do. If I want to eat, I'd better drag my weary carcass out of bed and get it down to the Dining Hall. Huge piles of Kleenex accumulate without my knowing their source. All around me, my friends offer the warm friendly advice, "Don't breathe on me!" I still have no girlfriend, and this is not helping.

        I know I'll feel better in a few days. I know there are people out there in the world that would kill to trade places with me so that I could instead have their truly debilitating diseases. I know, it's not the end of the world, yet I don't feel fine. But to be honest, I'm still supposed to be immortal at this point, and I don't like this at all.

        In the meantime, I'm going to just try to get what rest I can and get back into the swing of things as soon as possible. I have a hot date with an IBM for some web page updates this weekend.