So I had a cold. It was a vicious snotty thing that used up all my tissues. I coughed, I sneezed, I infected at least one other person. It very definitely did its relatively disgusting thing (I know, I should be totally grateful that it’s not ebola but situations like these are relative. If the only way I can breathe comfortably is through my nose I’m somehow a lot less sympathetic about all that death in lands increasingly close to me. That sounds bad. But come on, you’ve been ill before surely? Your entire capacity for caring for others rapidly vanishes out of the nearest window. Just me? Well that’s a confession best contained in brackets then).
And now it’s back. Or a new one’s moved in just as the first one was finally finished making me all croaky. I was totally going to talk about something else today. I’m pretty sure it was my annual rant about Christmas coming too damn early (wrapping paper and ornaments should not be a main display on the ground floor of M&S in October. Mid freaking October. Maybe it’s just because it wouldn’t be classy for them to make a similar fuss of Halloween, another event that everyone’s already been going on about for weeks). But the cold germs have made their way to my brain (calm down, I did a science degree. I know that’s not how they work. They burrow into the lining of your nose and fart out mucus until they die. Fact) and are making it very difficult for me to think about anything else.
Colds shouldn’t be able to buddy up like this. I am a good person (well, I’m not a bad person. Fine, I’m not an actively evil person), I don’t deserve to be subjected to sequential illness of this magnitude. Oh don’t worry about me. I’m fine. But could you hand me another tissue please?