The Sticky Egg

I am the latest victim of  ‘the cough.’

You know, the cough that we’re supposed to cover with our arm now?  Well, a person who will not be named here did not.  She let her cold germ-infected cough spew through the air of a small, not-so-very-well-ventilated green room, and spray all over those of us unfortunate enough to be sitting there.

In less than eight hours, I smelled snot.  And it was in my nose.

By the next day, that same snot was pouring out of my head.  The glands on one side of my neck were swollen.  I was running a low grade fever, and my voice sounded like a truck driver who smoked three packs a day.

All because of one uncovered cough in a small room.

To add insult to injury, I get nosebleeds when I blow my nose as often as a cold of this magnitude entails.  So, that’s fun.

But, today — day three of the tragedy — the fever has broken.  The DayQuil/NightQuil combination has stemmed the flow of mucous from my body.  Heck, I even felt like doing laundry this morning.

The crisis has passed.  Only the bitterness remains.

And a super-sexy, husky voice that I need to put to good use.