colds

Colds, when they come, are supposed to make you miserable.

The one I (still) have is overdoing it. Excessive. Apparently perpetual. Completely messing up me and my plans.

 It’s confusing my cats, who don’t understand the strange new noises I’m making. [Cats rarely cough and do not, I believe, blow their noses.]

 Plus, I’m boring. Always sitting around or lying down. Barely able to tend to basic chores. [Fortunately for all of us, I can still feed the felines.]

 And sitting around or lying down is boring to me, not just the cats. But reading makes my eyes water (as does working at the computer). And television numbs my already numb neurons. And moving, in almost any direction, makes me cough. Yuck.

 I know that there are millions, yea, billions of people who are having harder time right now. People in war zones, dealing with death and other unfathomable losses, but I cannot wander far from the Kleenex nor extend empathy further than my own perimeter.

Colds do that to you. Perhaps that is their most evil side effect. You tend to drown in your own small misery oblivious to reason, or beauty or joy. Or the needs of others.

 So I most sincerely – on behalf of my nose and the entire rest of the world – wish me health. Soon.