I have a cold. And outside of the times where I feel terribly tired, or when a persistent itch of a cough keeps me awake for hours, or when my nose won't stop running, I am really not minding the whole thing too much. It's such an understandable illness. I understand it will go away. I am confident it won't be killing me. And I feel like it might lead to less colds in the near future rather than more.
This is not like most other infirmities I find myself facing, the mercurial back pain of my adulthood, for instance, or the weird intensities of Covid from a few months ago, and so I'll take my wins where I can get them.
So here I am, taking my win, blowing my nose, which has become a bit sore from all the wiping, and drinking peppermint tea with lots of honey.
I go at sore throats and coughs and colds with Ricola, honey, and sorbets.
A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, sure, but what if sugar is the medicine?
No, I understand that sugar is a bit of a poison, but isn't that the trick then? The cold virus flees in terror from all the sweetness?
No?
Well, if I have to spend an extra day sneezing so be it.
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