Rum and Regret

UGH. Can you BELIEVE I am getting sick AGAIN?

I’ve got that pins-and-needles scratchy wheezy feeling in the back of my throat and the top of my lungs. Some BASTARD out there has given me a COLD.

YOU! WHOEVER YOU ARE! You are my SWORN ENEMY!

(Nah. That’s not really true. I love you, man.)

I hate the colds. I hate them because when I get one, and it settles in my chest, my asthma acts like it’s a “get out of jail free” card, and I hack and cough and wheeze like a little old man who chain-smoked bad hand-rolled cigarettes since he was four years old. AND worked in a mine. With ASBESTOS.

Also, I am getting the peevish. Nobody likes that.

I went down and made myself a cup of Holiday Chai tea (Stash Tea ROCKS) which tastes like gingerbread and rum. And I put in lots of milk and honey, and a wee bit of rum to warm me up. Which is a nice thing if you’re sick, but makes it a little hard to clean the bathroom effectively. (Mind you, probably if I am having lung issues, working with chemical cleaners is not the best idea anyway. But still.)

I guess I should have taken more notice of the hand sanitizer dispensers all over the police station when I was in there earlier in the week. Or possibly kept my distance from the receptionist at the vet on Tuesday with her cold of doom.

Too late now.

I think something szechuan is in order for dinner. Or maybe chicken soup, ordered in from Swiss Chalet.

Definitely more tea with rum.