much has been written
’bout men being sick:
they’re wimpy and snively
and not worth a lick.
and then there is Studly
that man among men
stronger by far than
one even might ken.
when Studly is sick,
though, all bets are off
his sneezes are epic
and, oh my, his cough!
he won’t take my help,
but, boy, does he need me
and heaven help us both
if I’m not there when I should be.
of course I’m aware it’s
my cold he’s caught,
still I’m an an angel when ill
and he’s certainly not.
Poor Studly!
Each morning I wake up and think, “Today’s the day this cold virus is officially going to stop messing up my life.” So far I’ve been wrong, but since when has that stopped me?
My nights are marked by throat tickling coughs that I try my best to hold in until I almost explode, and my days are spent fighting the dizziness and nausea brought on by draining sinus passages. In other words, I’m a real hoot to be around right now.
I take one medication for this symptom, another for that. My bathroom counter looks like the inside of Walgreens. Let’s spin the wheel and see what works this time.
My favorite “medication” is spicy Mexican food, so I’m self-medicating at Tijuana Flats, a great little place near Florida State University, that carries its own line of salsas:
I’m desperately hoping my cure resides in one of these containers. They did load my meal up with extra jalapeños–they take great care of me here.
I stopped drinking my hot toddy mixture. The whisky was tasting just a little too good, if you know what I mean. Oh, who am I kidding? I ran out of the stuff and Studly won’t fetch me a new bottle.
If you have a favorite end of cold remedy please share. I need to get well.
Peace, people
Praying for Eyebrowz 