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.