Y'know, when I first met Daughter, it was the middle of winter in Chongqing, and she, like all the kids in the SWI, had some kind of upper respiratory tract infection, which I promptly caught and which promptly developed into pneumonia in both of us.

And ever since then, every time I get a cold, it seems to go straight for my lungs. I feel a little bit like Frodo Baggins at the end of Lord of the Rings with the shrapnel from the cursed blade in his chest. Only, well, not magical.

And My Cinematic Spouse says I sound like Marlon Brando in The Godfather.

On this, the day of Sam and Rosie's wedding, you come and ask me this thing? Kiss my ring. To bind them all.

Argh.