OK, I'm Sick

...and I have to be well by tomorrow.

It's just a cold, but it's a cold cubed. I sneezed so hard that I swear snot came out of my tear ducts.

Now, Jim was never a whole lot of help with illness. Guys just aren't, I think. His method of dealing with a cold was to take some sort of OTC cold medicine, and pretend that he was fine.

My method is to take OTC cold medicine, suck down chicken soup, slather my chest with some sort of mentholated petroleum jelly, heat the house to 75, take hot showers and baths and hunker down with an electric blanket and an economy size box of tissues, and, most important, call in sick to work.

The result is that I miss more days at work than he did, but I am over my cold a lot sooner.

Still, it's very lonely, not having anyone to grumble to about it.

I can grumble to Brendan, and he's pretty sympathetic, but he doesn't actually grasp that I feel like death warmed over. And he can't run to the drugstore and get me some OTC cold meds when I run out.

For that, I must actually put on some real clothes and go out in the cold.

The temperature has dropped twenty degrees since nine o'clock this morning. I don't want to go out.

I must learn to plan for getting sick, and make sure there is lots of my favourite cold medicine in the house. The one for nights and the one for days.

I get depressed when I'm sick, and I want me mum. Failing that, my husband, who is supposed to look after me, would be nice.

Oops.