Do you know how you can feel it coming? Hammer pounding at your forehead, tired, weak. You don't want to believe it. You refuse to believe. You start popping more Airborne pills in the hopes that you can avoid it...but you begin to feel those cold germs entering your body. You frantically make chicken soup with lots of garlic and onions and some sriracha sauce to burn it out of you. You feel yourself in a losing battle though, as you hear your husband, who got it from work, let out huge sneeze sprays that circle the house. I tried. I mean, I actually used a scott towel before picking up the coffee pot. I washed my hands when I turned open door knobs in our house. And then...I ate an orange (vitamin C, you know) while typing on the keyboard...a keyboard he had just been using. The prior night I had sprayed it with antiseptic spray--no fool am I--after he used it. But this time I forgot. And as my infected fingers came away from my lips, I could hear the shower scene music from "Psycho" play. I feel doomed.
I mean, I want to feel sorry for him, and I do. But...I'm starting to feel worse for myself, knowing that the stage he's in right now, with those audible gasps of "uhhhhhhhhhh" after every nose blow, will soon be me. In desperation, I untwist the top of a bottle. "Oh mighty Airborne, save me from this dastardly cold fate."