A Head Cold

One day of feeling icky and stuffed up wears on you. After two weeks of a rawish throat, spinning head, dry eyes my allergies turned into an almost cold. As in I almost stayed home from work but decided to share my germs. I almost wanted to eat healthy foods to help combat but instead ate things that would undoubtedly taste good. Also when I attempted to make oatmeal it exploded in the microwave, the soup clumped up, the mashed potatoes disintegrated and the chocolate cake cookies resembled muffin tops.

I lived happily through the smoker voice that faded out. The runny nose relieved the congestion. And I coughed up enough crud to give my tortured lungs cardio exercise without going to the gym. Then the headache began.

At first I noticed a faint linger in my forehead after a sharp pang cursed through my nostril. Not so bad except it grew and developed into a full-blown dull ache that lasted and lasted, day and night during sleep and work.

By now I’d found the perfect solution—my fist. Moving at a rapid pace towards various points on my head my fist viciously attacked. For a brief moment I worried about permanent indentation. Luckily I’m a girl and will not be bald so a dented skull doesn’t matter.

I guess Eric disagreed. He showed up with a heavy dose of liquid gel caps, nasal spray, tomato soup, French bread, and season one of 30 Rock. I’m not quite sure what the bread was for. Maybe to offset the drugs. And the comedy of 30 Rock lifted my spirits, almost. Every time I laughed I felt the dull pain of a mucous swollen head.