Dear Head Cold,
I haven’t seen you creepin’ around my sinuses in fourteen months. Yes, I remember exactly when I had you last. It was September 2014. I was at my new job for a whole week before you decided to rain on my parade. But I punched you out. You see, I didn’t want to be that employee that calls out sick the second week on the job. I would have been stamped as “That Girl” who can’t handle a few sniffles. I smothered you in Emergen-C, Dayquil, Advil, and any other seemingly healthy/unhealthy pill you could put in one’s body all at the same time.
Thank you to the state of California for all that Vitamin C and warm weather because I haven’t seen you since then. You’re such a burden. Your first day back, I knew it was you.
You tried to act slick by starting off with swollen walls of saliva. I really wanted my coffee that morning but you prevented that from happening. No coffee equals bad angry Jess. I felt like I wanted to saw my head off because of that sore throat. Winter is arriving, so my first thought was the wind and dry air as the culprits to this hateful crime in my mouth. But I knew better.
You then nicely decided to take that God awful soreness away and bring in the storm of snot and drool like I’m a 6 month old baby. I HAVE TO SLEEP WITH MY MOUTH OPEN, which dries out my teeth and that just feels weird. So I keep licking my lips, which as a result, leaves me with zero sleep. I have to lay down on my back unless I want drippity droppity snot all over my pillow. I very much dislike sleeping on my back. I’m a tummy lounger all the way, with my arms wrapped tightly around my pillow. It’s what I do. Head Cold, you’re preventing me from being me.
That 6 month old baby I watch Monday-Friday…we are now equals. The amount of facial liquids that come out of my body is equivalent to hers. I can now understand why she cries so much.
My hands are clammy too. Like in middle school when you went on your first date to the movies, and halfway through the movie your date grabbed your hand so tightly it was like you both had arthritis. You didn’t dare let go until the end of the movie, so you stayed that way until sweat dripped from between your entwined fingers. THAT IS HOW MY HANDS FEEL.
What makes you the absolute worst is that you make me sick enough to feel tired, drained, and all around clogged that it makes me question if this day will ever end. However, the day, the work, and the life must go on, otherwise I look like a chump. It’s a sick illusion.
So Head Cold, I hope you have a pleasant visit inside my body, squirming around my veins and cells. I bet it will be a nice vacation until you move onto the next person, whoever the poor hopeless soul is. Be sure to send a postcard to your friends and family in Fluville and the Pink Eye state.
Your current Landlord