Wolfgang Marks, my brilliant chef-in-residence, made me a cheeseburger tonight.

Hi. Me again. It’s 10:37 Thursday morning and I just finished two recorded TV shows that Sam always refuses to watch with me … “Project Runway All-Stars” and “The Real Housewives of New Jersey.” (Trust me, I fully understand his objections.)

I stopped eating crunchy snacks, so the taste of salt is abhorrent now.

SUNDAY, 1/27/2018, 9:47 P.M. Hello and happy Sunday night from Howdygram headquarters! Sam is asleep on the sofa, so I thought this might be a fine time to launch another post while I try to bounce back from severe indigestion. I will never EVER eat Aidells Caramelized Onion Chicken Meatballs again. Sam bought them at Costco a couple of days ago, and they’re greasy, too heavily seasoned and exceptionally salty. I think what I hate most is the “exceptionally salty” part, because my diet changed dramatically when I found out last year that I have congestive heart failure. I stopped eating crunchy snacks, so the taste of salt is abhorrent now. (I haven’t even eaten one stinking Cheeto since 2017!)

Sam tried to wake me up Friday morning and almost couldn’t do it.

THURSDAY, 1/24/2019, 10:15 P.M. Wow. I’m definitely sick, y’all. About an hour ago, while I was enjoying this week’s episode of “Top Chef,” I realized I was feeling lousy, achy and hot as an iron … so I took my temperature and WHAMMO, it was 99.6°. And that’s substantial for me, because normal is usually 96°. I FEEL LIKE SHIT RIGHT NOW and my symptoms include all of the following: 1) a raging fever; 2) my hands and feet feel like they’re on fire; 3) the temperature under my boobs is probably 212° and hot enough to fry latkes; 4) muscle aches; 5) “electric shocks” in my thighs and feet from diabetic peripheral neuropathy; 6) a headache; 7) a muscle twinge in my back; and 8) a desperate craving for Pepperidge Farm Coconut Layer Cake, the last of which is pictured below for your possible interest.

I’m sticking with Adobe Creative Cloud.

Happy Thursday, boys and girls. It’s 1:08 a.m., Sam is in bed, and I’ve decided to spend a little time with the Howdygram because I have some juicy nooz to share with y’all. Here we go …

Here’s the classic definition of “declining.”

I’m not doing very well these days. It’s nothing major, really … just a bunch of little things all happening at the same time. I guess this is the classic definition of “declining.”

Sam and I bought a new Epson inkjet printer today.

Yo, everybody, and happy Wednesday to you and yours. Sam and I are enjoying an evening nosh and watching The Spirit of St. Louis (1957), the Charles Lindbergh Technicolor biopic starring James Stewart. This is a pleasant and historically accurate movie, and certainly one worth seeing (if you never have), even though James Stewart was already 50 years old when he made this film portraying Lindbergh at 25. It was a screwy casting choice, but Stewart was so damn popular that nobody apparently seemed to object. And he was good in the role! The entire movie is almost a one-man show, especially depicting Lindbergh’s 40-hour flight across the Atlantic, when Stewart talks to himself — and to a fly on the instrument panel — the entire time.

Classic Donald Trump: “The buck stops with everybody.”

Happy Sunday night from Howdygram headquarters. As I write this post I’m stretched out on my hospital bed in the family room and Sam is nearby, napping on the sofa. He looks incredibly comfortable. And we don’t give a shit that it’s winter.

“Bechamel Roman” is probably the most incredible font I’ve seen in a long, long time.

I think I owe you an explanation. While it was my intention to write a Howdygram post many days ago, I got sidetracked by feeling like total crap. Mostly I was having catheter issues again — resulting in serious leakage — and ongoing pain from the longest-running urinary tract infection (i.e., a UTI) in medical history. However tomorrow will be the “big day.” My hospice administrator promised results from the urine culture and sensitivity test that we sent to the lab on Monday, followed immediately thereafter by an emergency prescription for whichever antibiotic will cure the goddamn thing. Finally … it’s almost over. Stay tuned!

Life is good. I’ve been binge-watching endless episodes of “Bar Rescue.”

I didn’t write a Howdygram post yesterday. Get over it, okay? I was under the weather again with those goddamn burning spasms [see Saturday’s post] and just didn’t feel like expressing myself. Instead I filled my day with multiple bowls of Maruchan Hot & Spicy Bowl Noodles with Shrimp, a pair of orange Hostess cupcakes — these definitely looked better than they tasted — and binge-watching 27 episodes of “Bar Rescue.”

Will I have to bludgeon my nurse to death with a plastic soup mug?

This has been a day of behind-the-scenes suffering here at Howdygram headquarters. Sam is miserable tonight with a sprained neck, a migraine and miscellaneous body aches after a particularly physical demonstration for the hospice chaplain yesterday morning. He’s in a great deal of pain and just fell asleep on 10mg of Hydrocodone.

Please let me know if you’re making any plans to remember the Alamo this year.

It wasn’t my plan to write a Howdygram post tonight, but I’ve been through a roller-coaster ride of emotional turmoil today that deserves an explanation. So … here I am.

Happy New Year, everybody!

It’s 9:49 p.m. on New Year’s Eve. Sam’s unconscious on the sofa, I’m at my computer feeling moderately crappy, and That’s Entertainment I, II and III are playing live on Turner Classic Movies … because, quite frankly, if anything could make me feel better it would be an evening of classic MGM musicals. (And a handful of opioids.)