Finally, it happened. I've been fighting it for weeks now and I'm sad to say I've succumbed.
I've got a cold.
On Saturday I woke up with a tiny cough. Generally, my coughs are booming, serious affairs to get my lungs clear again. This cough wasn't like that. I guess it was more of a pre-lung cough that was trying to clear my throat.
"Uh-oh," my Mom said, "sounds like you're coming down with something. Do you want the humidifier in your room?"
"Nah," I said.
"Are you sure? It'll help."
"Nah, I'll be fine."
I woke up on Sunday feeling lethargic, which was too bad because I had to cook for my Mom and help her clean her closet. I hacked daintily since my throat hurt. I zoned out on the train back to Boston, watching the sun set over the depressingly beautiful landscapes that surround the train tracks. My mind started wandering about as it does when I'm getting sick, not able to focus on one thing specifically, just putting ideas together in my brain for no good reason. I slogged my big bag of crap back to the family's house where the paternal grandparents were staying.
"Don't come in," Father said. "We're all sick."
"Too late," I croaked. Boy was lost in a computer game while Baby looked at me with bleary eyes.
I dragged myself to Kristen's house to watch the Grammys (POLICE! I much prefer pop-punk Sting to adult-contemporary-pussy Sting) and stopped at 7-Eleven to pick up some hot chocolate and Vitamin water to stave off illness. When it was 11pm and the show was still going, I went back home to crash. Everyone else was in bed, so I was as quiet as I could be climbing stairs in an old house. Just as I closed my bedroom door, Baby started crying. Instead of going to wash my face and adding to the commotion, I just slid into bed. Never has a twin bed felt so good. I was asleep in two minutes. During the night, I felt the glands in my throat swelling up, waking me up whenever I had to cough. I'm calling out sick, I thought to myself. But when wake-up time came, I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom. The ache in my back and the ache of my chest as is tightens up in advance of a cold was helped by the steam, but I was still miserable.
Of course, Wednesday is apparently going to be a crappy day and the idea of dragging my sick butt outside in a snow/sleet mix to come to work and feel sick isn't appealing. I'm already planning what I could do with the day if it comes down to it. Usually when I'm sick I park myself in front of the TV and watch horrible talk shows, but if the kids have a snow day I really can't watch Maury talk about paternity tests. Good thing I like Arthur.
Monday, February 12, 2007
You Make Me Sick
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