“They” say that if you treat a cold, it will go away in just seven days; but if you don’t treat it, it will hang around for a full week. Or vice-versa. That’s about as clever as the groundhog mystique — we know it’s exactly six weeks from February 2nd to the first day of spring (March 21st) whether that cute but not-very-bright little marmot sees his shadow or not.

But in either case — to treat or not to treat — “they” (whoever the hell “they” are) are full of it. I am now on day ten, with no sign of this current plague ever going anywhere. I’ve kept sort of a diary of the past ten days, simply because I haven’t had the energy or the desire to do anything other than sit here in my comfy chair with my iPad on my lap. And of course, being the compulsive sharer that I am, it was inevitable that I would share it with you.

No, no! Don’t run away! It’s really rather interesting, and may perhaps serve to prepare you for the winter cold you’ll probably have before Punxsutawney Phil shows up again.

Day One – Saturday: Oh-oh! Woke up this morning with a scratchy, burning throat. Never a good sign. Feeling a little off, but not terrible. Maybe I just slept with my mouth open. Christmas tree going up today, something nice to distract me.

Day Two – Sunday: Damn! Throat feels worse, and there’s a definite post-nasal drip making an appearance. Time for the Mary Poppins treatment, slightly modified: a spoonful of honey, instead of sugar. It really helps the scratchiness, and it tastes yummy. Let’s see . . . ooh, orange blossom. No wonder. A cup of tea would be good too, and some extra Vitamin C.

Day Three – Monday: Crap! Feeling really rotten now. Woke up coughing up a lung from the g**damned drip. Hope it’s not the flu. [Pause to take temperature.] Nope — a nice cool 97.9, so that’s good. Should get dressed, but I’d rather just hang out in my jammies today. Not going anywhere anyway. Called the dentist about my 4:00 p.m. appointment, and they told me not to come — understandable, but the lady sounded like I was Typhoid Mary or something. Rescheduled for next Monday; should be fine by then.

Day Four – Tuesday: Oohhhhhhh! I can’t breathe through my nose anymore. Where are my saline nose drops? Did have somebody pick up some DayQuil, which helps a little but the label says I can’t overdo it without risking damage to my liver from the Acetaminophen, or whatever it is. Why is the treatment always more dangerous than the condition? Crap!

Day Five – Wednesday: Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! I really need to get out of these jammies and get washed — it’s . . . what? Three days now? Okay, as soon as I can get up. First, let’s see what’s on TV. [Pause] Not much. Maybe I’ll just check Facebook. [Long pause] Oops . . . fell asleep there. If DayQuil does that to me, can you imagine what NyQuil would do?

Day Six – Thursday: Feeling better in clean jammies, but had a coughing fit today and think I pulled something on my left side. It hurts to cough and to move certain ways. Not as bad as the time I tore cartilage in my rib cage, though, so no worries. Just one more thing to deal with. Think I’ll get some soup now . . . Hey, I never noticed that before. Is it something crawling on the carpet, or am I seeing spots? . . . Oh, okay — it’s a piece of outside dirt the dog brought in. Can’t bend down without falling over — get it later. First night of Chanukah tonight; remember to light the menorah.

Day Seven – Friday: Still coughing, still dripping (post-nasally). Working on second bottle of DayQuil; bye-bye, liver. Also about to finish second big box of Kleenex. All that stuff is so freakin’ expensive! Still no fever, so that’s some good news anyway; glad I had my flu shot last month. Just noticed how much dust there is on the ceiling fan. Well, that’s something to do when I can stand up again; or get someone else to do it. Yeah, that’s a better idea. Or just don’t look up at the ceiling. Time for more soup now.

Day Eight – Saturday: F*ck! F*ck! F*ck! Saturday again. I told you they lied about that seven-day cold thing. Still choking on phlegm, hacking up gobs of the stuff, blowing yellow crap through my nostrils, and peeing every 20 minutes from all the liquids I keep chugging. My nose looks like freakin’ Rudolph from all the blowing. Not a f*cking pretty picture, but who gives a shit at this point? I guess I’ll be missing the neighborhood party tonight; and I even bought an ugly Christmas sweater for it. But who wants Typhoid Mary at their party, right? And I sure don’t want to be the one everybody blames when anybody in the neighborhood gets sick between now and Easter. Crap!

Day Nine – Sunday: Same as every other day. Seriously hooked on honey now. I wonder how many calories it has . . . don’t really care. Running out of curse words in English, too lazy to look them up in other languages. Cancelled dental appointment tomorrow too. Don’t care about that anymore either. F*ck it!

Day Ten – Monday: Slept till almost 2:00 p.m. Still feel like crap, still a lot of nose-blowing, but just a little less coughing. Maybe there’s actually a light at the end of this G*d-awful tunnel? Fifth night of Hanukkah (however you choose to spell it). We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

No time to think about that now, though . . . got to pee again.

Thanks for listening,

Brendochka
12/12/23