If we named colds like we name hurricanes, I would be in the throes of Katrina. That’s how bad this is.
And it’s hard for me to admit it. I’ve been walking, no strutting would be more honest, around Florida espousing the miracle of Zicam and hand washing, and that’s why I RARELY get colds. It’s been seven years since I moved here, and seven years since I’ve had a cold. I’m at day four and counting, clearly making up for lost time.
Every morning I get up from a hellish night thinking surely I will feel better today. Only I feel worse. And not just worse, but exponentially worse, like the Richter scale of 6.5 is ten times worse than 6.4. If colds were earthquakes, this would be a 9.5 which I believe is the highest ever recorded. Maybe I’m a 9.6.
So while laying here unable to do anything other than roll over to blow my nose I got to thinking about allergy sufferers who walk around all spring with runny, burning noses and sneezing. Forgive me, but I’d get those shots in a heartbeat. At least I have an endpoint to my misery.
But the worst part is not having the energy to work on crafts. Just writing this little post will surely knock me out for the next three hours. Thank God.