
Mr. Mair is driving from Platteville, three hours away. I call.
"Don't worry, my wife is going to drive me," he reassures me.
"How are you feeling?" I ask.
"Terrible. But I'll do it."
But I talked him out of it. I didn't think he'd make it all the way anyway and how could I do this to him? This strain of stomach flu is awful. Mr. Mair gets points for making the effort, but we want him to get well soon and wish him the best, and the best way for him to do that is to rest.
So my apologies, but we're cancelling tonight's event. We'll be able to reschedule this one, and we'll get you details as soon as we have them.
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