On this day, three days before Christmas, my true love gave to me: a highly contagious (albeit mild) rhinovirus.
While I am meant to be wrapping gifts and baking cookies, I am instead huddled into my warmest socks, beanie stretched around my unwashed, unbrushed hair, eating peanut brittle from a plastic bag with one hand while I blow my nose with the other.
Oh, Santa baby!
Is this my karmic retribution for the “Feed Me Tacos and Tell Me I’m Pretty” shirt I bought myself last week instead of finishing shopping for my in-laws? Dear, merciful universe, I know it was selfish, I know the message espouses gluttony and vanity, but can’t you just gimme this one?
Perhaps this is instead my punishment for not freaking out about my husband’s recent news that one of his co-workers was diagnosed with tuberculosis. Yeah! TB! The old-timey consumption that plagued Victorian-era England, sending many an innocent literary heroine coughing blood into a lace white handkerchief just days before she was to make her societal debut!
This paranoid hypochondriac over here was feeling like a hot shot as I calmly took in my husband’s description of the information session put on by two members of the county health department and the many, many reasons the two officers listed not to worry. By the way, did you know that if you come down with tuberculosis in this country that you have to take your medication IN FRONT OF AN OFFICER throughout your entire treatment to ensure compliance? LOL, don’t worry, but county health seriously ain’t fuckin’ around!
I suppose the universe thought I might be getting a little cocky. A little high and mighty on this Lexapro that keeps the panic attacks at bay. “Oh, the husband’s telling stories about serious diseases and she’s not huddled in a corner crying for her life? Let’s just slip this little cold virus in right here to shake her confidence, terrify her in the early hours of the morning when she wakes congested and coughing. Could it be TB? Ha!”
So instead of holiday cheer, I am filled with an uneasy dread. And so much phlegm. So, so much phlegm. TMI, I know, but Jesus!
This year so needs to end!