I don’t usually get sick. I have the sort of iron constitution and immune system that the average sickly person would envy. The bug that gives me a stuffy nose tends to take Greg down for a week or more…I get the common cold, he gets Ebola.
Yesterday morning, I woke up with a sore throat and a stuffy nose. I had this strange sensation under my nose. After feeling around in a sleepy haze, I realized that I had drippy snot encrusted on my face. That was a fun surprise. Whenever that happens I can’t help but remember the part in Aliens when they discover the first person pasted to the wall with alien excretion. There’s this little nugget of alien dribble clinging to their face. Consequently, a similar condition usually causes me to frantically claw at my face until the offending substance is off. I guess in my half-awake state, I irrationally expect a chest-burster to violently expel itself from my ribcage and proceed to eviscerate peacefully slumbering Greg (for the record, Greg and I don’t sleep in the same bed…yikes).
As I started to come to and exchanged some unmemorable morning banter with my roommates, I further realized that my voice was “extra crispy.” On the way to church, I sang along to Johnny Cash and for the first time, I could match his raspy, old man croak. How impressed I was! “Johnny Cash,” I thought, “I have mastered in my short 21 years what it took you neigh 70 years to achieve…eat your heart out.” Actually, I thought, “I hope I don’t hack up phlegm when I’m talking to someone at church.” Nothing more embarrassing than to have to wipe your mouth bile off a new friend.
“Hello, new friend. I’ve infected you with Ebola. Would you like a hug? No? Do what to myself? I didn’t know those two profanities could be put together in that way.”
I’m not really sure what my point in this is. I guess the message here is that if Greg starts posting about how Nyquil makes him tired and how he’s started to hack up bloody bile, you’ll know who’s responsible.