It turns out I was laid up at John Mar's apartment for a week before he brought me to St. John's Hospital. The doctors couldn't find any trace of toxins in my system, but I was out for three weeks there. My company put me on sick leave and my private insurance paid 80% of the hospital costs. I'm in the red big time with no answers.
I'm working time and a half editing technical manuals for Oldsmobile and writing television ads for a toothpaste company to pay off the debt. No more Zombies for me.
Plenty of grammatical rules though. I'm living, breathing, and soaking up grammar.