I dislike summer colds. It’s the worst time to have a cold. Not only is it beautiful and warm outside, so you don’t feel like you have an excuse to be miserable... but it’s a real bummer. You survived winter colds, the noxious spring colds and get pummeled by a summer cold that initially feels like allergies. What a way to feel like a wimp.
I hate it when I am sick. Either I am grumpy... or needy. Either way someone has to pay for the misery that I am feeling. I’m pretty certain that most of the time when Alpha offers me drugs it is a subtle way to knock me out so he can go play more Diablo 3. Okay, maybe not so subtle. Of course, I guess I have to admit that cuddling a wife who cries and blows her nose on your shirt is probably less attractive than the animation of Diablo 3. Especially if her nose turns red and her voice becomes startlingly low that if it weren’t for anatomical differences you’d mistake her for a small man.
"Yes, honey. I’ll take the syrup that makes my eyes and legs feel like lead in the morning. Yes, I will take the 1-ply tissues you retrieved for me, even if they scrape my nose and I prefer your age-softened, cotton haiwaian shirt instead. Yes, honey, I love you. Wait! WHY ARE YOU MOVING! No, I need more cuddles."
Also, when my throat is sore and my nose streams viscous stuff, I have no energy except sit and watch Les Miserables: The 25th Anniversary concert. I don’t even have the energy to mute the repetitive fundraising efforts that derail the emotional climax of the concert. Oh, so amazing I wonder what’s going to- fundraising break- I no longer care about anything anymore.