Misery

1 05 2017

Colds suck.

I know, I know: everybody gets ’em, everybody hates ’em, ain’t nothin’ special about ’em.

That’s part of the suckage of the common cold, innit? It’s just such goddamned ordinary misery.

A serious flu and you take to your bed, achy and feverish and wanting nothing more than to be unconscious, but a cold? Yeah, you’re achy and you want to sleep, but you can mostly also do whatever it is you usually do, just with more breaks.

And if you’re not knocked flat on your ass, it’s easy to think, Oh, yeah, I’ll be better soon. Only the damn thing lingers. One day you can’t stop sneezing. Another day and it’s all Give Me Fever, and the day after that you swear you’re going to cough your lung inside out.

And then you think, Oh, okay, I’ll be better soon, and STILL WITH THE COUGHING.

At one point earlier today I wondered, hopefully (!), All this coughing: maybe I have walking pneumonia?

I do not have walking pneumonia.

No, I’m just bored and impatient and tired of being tired and crabbing like any middle-aged crabby broad would do.

Just enough with the fucking coughing already, though, okay?