Friday, December 11, 2009

Cold

I had a code.  My node id running and my throat id sore, and I think I had a feder.  Sniff, sniff, sneede, sneede, cough, cough.  Last weekend, spent in very close quarters in cars and hotel rooms, J was fighting a mother of a cold.  Because Beve elected to spend the night in his dad's hotel room, E and I slept right beside J.  And guess what?  She's sniffing and sneezing and clogged up as well.

Man, I really hate being sick.  Whine, whine, whine. Having just buried--er, consigned to a sacred wall--the remains of a woman for whom a simple cold could land her in the hospital, I should be hesitant to complain.  But I am who I am, and colds can annoy me, seriously annoy me.  I'm a weeny about them (and I believe that is a real word--weeny).  They start with a whimper, a graininess in the eyes or a scratch in the throat, at their apex they bang loudly, and end with a seemingly never ending flow of...well, you know, used tissue.

So I'm sitting by the fire in the living room this morning, thankful that at least the  100+ degree fever I was running yesterday seems to have abated a little,  remembering the good old days--say, Monday--when I could breathe through my nose.  So until further notice--and by that I mean the end of this blasted thing--I'll go back to sipping my tea and NOT writing this or anything else.  I'm at least smart enough to know that my brain is too clogged with snot hold a thought, let alone see God at the intersections.

By the way, Beve's parents slapped down a deposit for a Retirement/Assisted Living apartment here Wednesday and are moving north for the duration.  That mere ten minutes away versus 3 1/2 hours will be a luxury to all of us.

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