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hits by the end of the first day. Stuff like this is viral. We’ll be on every significant blog directory within 48 hours. Or 72 hours, tops.”
    “Precisely. You keep making my point for me but you seem to keep missing it yourself.” Amanda was getting too tense, so she tried to calm down. “Security, confidentiality. Safety. Privacy, for cryin’ out loud.”
    “Got all that covered. I’ve been trying to tell you. No town listed, no state. Not even a region of the country. A studly FBI agent couldn’t track you down. This is accessed by subject: man-cold . We’re going to be listed in bo-coodles of blog indexes. But it’s topical. Nobody sees your name, address… nothing. We’re not posting any pix. You’re just a woman with a sick boyfriend you refuse to dump temporarily because you love him too much… or think you do. And your boyfriend is the biggest wuss in the world when it comes to sickness.”
    “He’s not really that much of a wuss, is he?”
    “Your male significant other is off work, in his way-too-saggy PJs, in your guestroom, hasn’t shaved — and probably won’t — and likely hasn’t bathed.” Christine sounded like she was telling a slow-witted niece to run tap water while grinding the garbage disposal. “And all this is because he has a sniffle and slightly over 99 degrees of temperature. He probably got his alleged fever that high by holding the thermometer near a light bulb. He’s a wuss and a faker. Not even a good faker. I noticed how he slumped over that first evening, right before he saw you. He put on the oh-poor-sick-me thing like it’s a worn-out bathrobe. He’s a wuss, all right.”
    “Okay, okay. Enough. Yeah, he’s a baby about the sniffles. But I do love him. You know, beyond the mucous and that awful breath from post-nasal drip.”
    “Beyond the mucous and the drip — now that’s a sentimental image.” Christine paused “And you’d like to see him get past this. Right?”
    “Of course.”
    “We’re going to cure him and the whole world wants to know how. We owe them the explanation, the plan, the details. The results! It’s our obligation to the sisterhood of caregivers all over the universe…”
    “It grew from globe to universe in the last ten minutes.” Amanda felt like she was chasing a runaway train.
    “Like I said, it’s viral. Our blog is taking off. While I’ve been yammering with you, we’ve had 78 more hits. Some of them are even donating.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “I’m looking right at it, as we speak. We’re hot, girl. This is virgin stuff. Nobody else has attempted to cure the uncommon man-cold and we’re already making progress. We’re creating history. We might have a grassroots movement here that could eradicate the man-cold as we know it.” Christine took a breath. “Could make a little profit, too. Might be a book in this. Movie deal… who knows?”
    “Uh, maybe this has already gotten out of hand. We started out trying to get Jason out of my apartment. Can’t we keep the focus on him, for now, and skip the rest of the world?”
    “Too late. We’ve had sixteen more hits while you’ve been trying to talk me out of this.”
    Amanda sighed heavily. “Oh, heck, Christine. Blog it if you want. But keep our names out. Promise me nobody will ever know the Missy and Marty in your blog are me and Jason. That includes your sister and her cable-guy-impersonating husband.”
    “Not to worry. The only blogs my brother-in-law reads are the Penthouse online forums. My sister knows about our blog, because she helped me set it up. That’s it… nobody else. Trust me. No way anyone else could find out. It’s foolproof.”
    That final word sent chills down Amanda’s back. The last time she’d heard foolproof , a chicken with a beer can up its butt exploded inside her back porch grill. Nobody told me to open the can first . “Remember, this is about getting Jason out of my apartment.”
    “Right. We’re starting with him, but