We have the autumnal cold going through our house. Luke has it, Jake has it, and I have it. However, Luke and Jake can take medicine. Their bathroom counter has Dayquil and Nyquil. Mine has cough drops. They can go about their daily business. I get to lie on the couch and blow my nose. Why? Because I can’t take decongestants. Any cold medicine that worth it’s salt (yeah, sort of a mixed metaphor, but I’m sick so cut me some slack) has a decongestant in it. But decongestants give me tachycardia—my heart will beat so fast it gives me chest pain. Long ago there was a trip to the hospital for chest pain. Apparently your heart can beat so fast that it doesn’t get enough oxygen. Who knew?
So I’m reading (finished all my library books), sleeping, and streaming an occasional TV show. Jake is jealous. I think he’d like to switch places. But he doesn’t notice the stacks of rapidly multiplying laundry, the messy kitchen (okay, the dishes are getting done, but why is it that no one wipes the counters?), and the general disorder of the house—all of which will need to be remedied when I get better. I’d trade with Jake in an instant.