I have the flu, I have a fever, there's a cement mixer and a circular saw (? -- some kind of horrible whining droning saw-thing, I don't know what the fuck it is when it's at home) about thirty feet away from my bedroom window, and Terry Pratchett is still cracking me up with Weaver the thatcher and Carpenter the tailor.
Now that's the real magic.
descensus Averno facilis est