By the time I got home from the jobette on Tuesday, it was pretty obvious that I had a cold. Because, you know, why not? Maybe my immune system was weakened by stress, along with my ever tenuous mental health.

Megan had left some Sudafed* on the table for me, and I thought I had some Afrin, but alas, it turned out that I did not. There is no substitute for either of these things, and unfortunately for me, Sudafed alone was not mighty enough to decongest my nose.

As often happens, just when I needed sleep the most, I felt too lousy to sleep. I was awake at 1:30 am, while yet being too tired to read, so I actually watched an episode of The Love Boat, thinking about how the guy who played Gopher became a Congressman later and how Julie the cruise director got fired from the show for her coke habit, which must have been pretty spectacular considering it was the early 80s. I followed up this Velveeta-esque cheesefest with a Scooby Doo cartoon chaser. The Mystery Machine started to look pretty cool to me, and I was actually trying to solve the mysteries, which would have been painfully obvious to Nancy Drew, when I realized that I was probably pretty sick.

Roscoe was unimpressed with my choice of television fare in the dark hours, and Audrey and Clyde left the room completely. I’m blaming it on my weakened and feverish condition.

The next day, Megan came by to check on me and bring me watermelon popsicles for my sore throat, which also happen to be magically delicious. Between those and the meds, I’m on the mend.


The Impatient Patient

*When Megan bought it, she got her driver’s license out to show the pharmacist, and he told her that the non-drowsy Sudafed, which she was buying, was not the kind used for meth manufacture – the drowsy kind is. Which is kind of counterintuitive.