No, Joss doesn’t have to face the Cold of DOOM. And he’s appropriately grateful.
So. Day 8 (I know because I first complained of my cold in my blog on the 19th) (yes, I use my blog to remember things) of Misery. Before that I dimly remember a couple days of sore throat, but we’ll go with day 8.
Things I’ve learned (again): lotion-infused facial tissue is worth the price. Drink lots of liquids, but milk is a bad idea. NyQuil may be my friend, but DayQuil does not like me. Nothing works consistently. (The Mucinex I swore by last cold? Barely touched this one. And the nasal spray I bought and almost tossed ’cause it didn’t work is enabling me to breathe today.) The kid can survive quite happily on PB&J. Sleep is precious. When my brain is drowning in snot (sorry) all bets are off.
The last few days have been better, if we remember that all is relative. My brain works a bit. Enough that I dare to edit, though when I wander off to check on Zeke’s father’s name, I’ll probably have forgotten what I was looking for by the time I open the correct file. (If I open the correct file.) Because of that I try not to wander off, but the old memory doesn’t remember that choice very well either.
So anyway. Still alive. Still trying to edit. Onward.