Summer's Cruelty

Last weekend I was over at a good friend’s house to do a load of laundry and play Transformers with his four-year-old. All went well just shy of catching Megatron’s right hook to my cheek without provocation. I guess when you’re Optimus Prime, you have to be a little more aware as I was half-watching a History Channel special on Nazism in America. Yes, Finn was his delightful little self per the usual. Perhaps he was just a bit too generous this time however.

It started the next day. Just a faint tickle in the back of my throat. I was so very astonished but disregarded it as allergies. I consumed the four remaining cough drops I had in my apartment from the previous rhinoviral-related episode to fall asleep, just a little perplexed.

The next day I was dragging. My energy never seemed to replenish. That afternoon, I reconsidered my presence at a client boat outing on Lake Minnetonka. I went though, and was delighted. The boat seemed to be swaying a bit more than the horizon line would indicate. I drank a few more beers hoping that was it. As I drove to a friend’s house afterward to watch a movie, I sniffled a little and noticed my sinuses were totally plugged. The cause of my dizziness was not the boat or the beer (well, the beer is not entirely innocent of fault).

After the movie, I knew sleep would be an evasive little animal all night. And it was. The nasty tasting cough drops didn’t help and just left their nastiness in my mouth. My left leg became terribly sore, the muscles aching so intensely all I could do was whimper. Breathing through my mouth was a challenge until mercy available itself a nostril opened up.

I was determined to skip work the next day, then remembered a few critical meetings I had. Arriving an hour late and having the good fortune of no one noticing, I began a day of utter misery. It was like treatment in a rehab facility for me. Denial was my mantra. No, you don’t have a summer cold. You don’t have a summer cold. You don’t have a summer cold.

As all highly regarded treatment facilities go, I arrived at the truth. I have a summer cold. The day progressed slowly. A small landfill of tissues accumulated in my wastebasket by my desk along with half a dozen emptied cups of tea with honey. Sneezing with regularity drew ire and horror from my colleagues as they skidded backward in an attempt to avoid my leprotic-level contagiousness.

I lost my sense of taste today, which means I’m about forty-eight hours from recovery. My will has not been broken. Though my poor bike has not seen nearly as many miles this week, I shall once again reclaim my ways and habits. Summer colds are a daft affair, filled with irony and subtle cruelty. But this aggression will not stand. This virus had its day in the sun and my immune system will prevail.

I appreciate your prayers and thoughts in this difficult time.

**sneeze**

You don’t have any Kleenex on you, do you?