The Unwelcome Guest
Dark thoughts of even worse illnesses haunt your sleepless nights. You might get pneumonia if you so much as look out the window, after all. Hypochondria goes into overdrive, and you have to remind yourself it’s just a stupid cold, for godsake. A cold you caught because someone didn’t wash their hands or coughed without covering their mouth. By the third day, you begin to feel as if you might live. You haven’t bathed in two days, your sheets and unchanged pajamas make you a health hazard, but you can’t do anything about it except crack a new bottle of ginger ale and fix a cup of tea. If you can sit up to the table and slurp down some chicken noodle soup and gnaw on a couple of saltines, you figure you might live. Then you crawl back into bed and finally, mercifully, fall asleep for a few hours, only to wake up with the TV still on, blaring some middle-of-the-night infomercial. On the fourth day, you start to think you might be getting well.
with no springs. I figure sleep deprives the cold virus of a chance to go away, so it keeps you drowsy as it works its evil magic on your ravaged body. Plus, forcing all those liquids, the way you’re supposed to, keeps you staggering up and down all night, leaving a trail of tissue behind you like bread crumbs in a fairy tale. Something as simple as washing your face and brushing your teeth is about all you can manage, and you feel good that you can get that far.
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