Colds are squirrely things. This one’s abandoned my throat and moved to my nose. I can no longer safely be more than a few steps from a tissue.
You can be sick in so many worse says, yet a cold is its own special hell.
This was another multi-nap day. I might have broken a record.
A cold saps your strength uniformly. Weaker physically. Weaker mentally. I even had trouble concentrating on football, like the Giants).
Another four days, I figure. There’s no hurrying a cold.
Where will it go next? My chest? Is there phlegm in my future?