Every fall I get a cold.
Well, several colds. I usually get my October cold and then the Thanksgiving cold and then the Christmas cold. My immune systems gets laaaazzzzy when the leaves change, apparently.
Just as predictable as the fact that I WILL get a cold is the timeline of events:
Day 1: I notice a distinct itchy feeling in the back on my throat. I delicately sneeze two or three times. I decide that I am clearly just a little thirsty. Have large Diet Coke, all the better to wash down a handful of candy corn. Yay fall!
Day 2: Wake up and immediately blow nose. Wonder why mouth tastes like a gym sock. Realize I’m mouth breathing. Steadily fall apart during the day. Start taking medicine and switch from Diet Coke to juice. Yeah, cold– take that. Vitamin C up in this bitch.
Day 3: One nostril is clogged, the other is leaking. Hear reports from family members that “wow Mom, you really snored loud last night, like really loud”. Disown children, call in sick to work, sleepy 27 hours.
Day 4: Wake up filled with optimism. Feel marginally better. Clearly on the upswing. Go about my business. Get home from work, collapse into bed at 7pm.
Day 5: Wake up and wish for death. Cold has transitioned into sinuses. Blow nose and marvel at the thick green filth that comes from the depths of my brain. Head is pounding. Apply medicinal Diet Coke and Taco Bell to the situation. Marvel at the fact that even though I can’t taste anything, Taco Bell still tastes good.
Day 6: Mother effer. Still sick. Starting to get desperate enough to administer self-water boarding, otherwise known as the neti pot. Change shirt 10 minutes later as I now have a charming combination of boogers and water on my shirt. Sweat from the effort of changing shirt. Go back to bed. Assume children are doing fine despite the total lack of maternal attention.
Day 7: Are you effing kidding me with this bullshit? Make doctor’s appointment even though I know that he’ll tell me it is viral and there is nothing I can do about it.
Go to doctor. It is viral. He suggests the neti pot. Damn it.
Day 8: Step on scale and find the small glimmer of brightside to having no sense of smell or tasted. Down 1 pound! Imagine it would be more if I wasn’t still entirely filled with mucus.
Day 9: Blow nose, turn on laptop, write angry blog post about state of sinus cavities. Readers love hearing about mucus.
Day 10: I GET BETTER*
*I am just putting this out into the universe, The Secret style, so it will come true.