My cold is back for another round. The Systems Administrator complained last night of renewed streaming eyes and snivelling nose, which might have been down to breathing a face full of fur from Our Ginger, but felt more like a continuation of the cold. I was fairly sure I was still suffering from something, just because I should not have been so tired on Tuesday. Even allowing for having lost some fitness over Christmas, I really didn't walk that far.
In the night I woke up and realised that I was very chilly and that I ached all over, and this morning the cold was back, pain in the back of the throat, delicately dripping nose, and aching muscles. The muscle aches are like crop marks revealing archaeological features in a drought, highlighting weak spots in the form of my right forearm that I messed up last month and right knee that's been starting to feel ever so slightly dodgy for a while aching more than the rest.
Colds are so dreary. They are not life threatening emergencies, except perhaps in the most severely immunologically challenged. There is the erroneous idea that they are supposed to be over in a fortnight. Maybe that's why some of my friends don't have a cold nowadays, they have viruses. You are allowed to have a virus for more than a fortnight. Then there's the depressing theory that if my immune system was working properly I wouldn't have a cold, making it my fault. I should have had a more positive attitude, or been less stressed, or eaten more oranges, or something.
I cannot even begin to think about all the things I ought to be getting on with, and am not doing. The Systems Administrator admits to a running nose, headache and inability to concentrate, but has gone to fiddle around in the blue shed regardless. I am merely grateful that the SA's energies extended to organising lunch, since mine don't run beyond sitting in a chair.
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