There are only a couple of good things about being sick. First and foremost, your plague provides an excuse to avoid doing things you’d thus far not found a publicly acceptable reason to skip (weddings involving a third cousin, plays involving someone else’s kids, etc.).

Another equally important gift is uninterrupted quality time with your computer. Remember how you promised yourself that you’d one day clear out the 300 files that you’d randomly pasted to your desktop? You and your flu can now spend as much time as you’d like trying to figure out why you’d ever thought a particular spreadsheet was important enough to look at — much less save.

My cold and I just finished such an exercise and, in and amongst the hundreds of photos, pdfs and other random downloads I found what can only be considered hidden booty. 

I don’t want to ruin the surprise but please do note that this clip is almost three years old. The vocalist — #2 son — was five. #2 was enamored of the microphone he’d found in the closet. He was also heavily under the influence of the pending Halloween celebration as well as a unhealthy appreciation for the distortion knob on my amp.

The guitar player — me — was 45. No, there’s really no excuse for the guitar playing or the song that was made up on the spot. In my defense #2 was tangling the mike cord around me as he rolled all over the floor, the amp, the guitar and everything else in the vicinity.

Is it a good song? No, but that’s what I like about it. Does the intensity of #2’s performance shine through? I think it does. For better or worse.

When I asked #2 post performance what he wanted to call it he paused for a moment, then blurted out “Ghost Fright.” Ladies and gentlemen, please click this link to enjoy, or at least listen to Ghost Fright.