Spring Cold.

No, we are not talking about the weather here. I have a weekend cold, which is such a bore. It started Thursday evening with a dry throat, blossomed Friday in a painful throat that throat lozenges did not do much for. Then it stealthily crept up the back of my nasal passages and ambushed my sinuses, leaving just enough sore-throat soldiers behind to make it hurt when I sneeze or try to blow my nose. It's an unusually fast-moving bug, but fairly typical. The next step will be a rib-rattling, head-loosening cough.

If it does not stop there, I will develop full-blown pneumonia. Then shall I lie on my death-bed, with my children and beloved husband gathered around, my room full of flowers, the pastor sympathetically holding my hand and praying, with my best friends patting my forehead with a cool damp cloth, or down in the kitchen preparing comforting stews and breads and pies to encourage my family to take nutrition. But then there will be sweet music and an angel will escort me to Heaven's bliss.

I have to go do some luandry now.