I am on Day 4 (OK, maybe Day 5 now that I think about when the initial ickiness kicked in) of a cold and I do not care for this. I’m exhausted and achy and can’t breathe and I don’t want to point fingers but this is totally Ed’s fault. He was sick week before last and despite all my shrieking to “WASH YOUR HANDS!” and “DON’T TOUCH ME!” and “YOU’RE SLEEPING IN THE OTHER ROOM, RIGHT?” I still managed to get this death virus. So I Married Patient Zero. Also, every person on my side of the office has been sick so that may have contributed.
Anyway, this is the first time I’ve been sick in awhile (woo!) but it really drives home how awful of a person I am when I’m mildly inconvenienced. Any dramatic tendencies are only heightened by the NyQuil. Does the Red Cross know how I suffer? I wonder why no one is planning a telethon to raise funds to fight whatever I’m bravely battling. “I can’t even remember what it’s like to be healthy” I wail as Ed fetches me another glass of juice and offers to bring me more blankets and deals with me insisting on watching Gilmore Girls all day since I find the music and clothing soothing. Did I mention I threatened to smother him in his sleep if his coughing kept me up at night? A fucking delight over here, I tell you.
I did get a flu shot this year, however, so I’m hoping this will be the extent of how sick I get. For Ed’s sake (and anyone else who has to be around me) let’s hope that’s true.