Yup, you guessed it, I have a cold. And not just the garden variety either--no I have a damn cold, quantified by this dry hacking cough, the alternating congestion in opposite orifices, and the parchment-dry throat which never seems to be slaked by umpteen visits to the drinking fountain.
It's damned cold indeed. Thrice damned by my writing and reckoning, and the damnability outlook is near limitless at this moment. To add insult to injury, Madolin, Miles, and Melissa all have one too (Hyrum lucked out somehow, thankfully).
Tis the season! Not only does this time of year allow me to enjoy the pre-Halloween Christmas decor, but the bite in the air allows the annual pilgrimage of the mutated rhinovirus into my upper respiratory system and I get to enjoy that Christmas garland hanging in Macys all blurred by my itchy watery NyQuil blurred eyes. Who needs illicit drugs when you can take a trip to the mall and see some weird shyte like that?
All kidding aside, I truly am suffering a cold (and it is my annual one!) and can think of absolutely nothing more interesting between this stuffy nostril and stuffy ear to write about. So apologies, .5 reader, for this rant about my bout with coronavirus.
It's time to head to the mall and Macys to see if that decorated tree and those craaaaazy wreaths will do that funky dance for me again!