My brother-in-law helped himself to a sampling of my ice cream cone last week and now I have his cold. Stinky brothers.
It is gray and hot and horrible, and all I want is a movie, watched on the couch, Bonnie at my feet, and a Nutella English muffin.
Instead, I have work, 2-6.
(Incidentally, is catching two summer colds before July 4 really even fair?)
So today, Day 2 of my cold, I was industriously sewing away at a friend’s Christmas present (tutorial here), watching Mulan and crying immoderately, as is my tendency and right on such sick days, when a neighbor came to the door.
He introduced himself, referred to a mutual friend, and acted like a normal amicable being. I sniffled, gripped Bonnie’s halter, and wished I had paused the movie, still yammering on the in background. I wanted to shout after him, “I have a cold! The second one in a month! I watch Disney when I’m sick!” Instead, I settled for sending John down when he got home from work, to be neighborly and charming in a way I, for one, apparently cannot muster.