It’s winter. One expects chapped lips, windblown cheeks, perhaps a scratchy throat and a delicate sneeze...
In my fantasy, I would be in a Swiss chalet with a St. Bernard carrying a barrel of hot chocolate.
No make that hot toddies, whatever that is, and there would be a cozy fire warming my toes.
A fur-lined blanket would cover me up to my chin, and a smorgasbord of delectables would be within reach.
I would wear expensive seasonal attire, my hair coiffed and adoring people would flit around, wanting to fulfill my immediate needs.
Instead, I’m forced to reality having the mother of all head colds, with puffy eyes, a bulbous scarlet nose and a sneeze that could replace rocket fuel.
Who needs a hangover when an incredible headache thunders attention, and there’s no need for a smorgasbord because my taste buds are visiting my fantasy friend.
I’m reminded of the commercials using professional football players and coaches who must do their jobs in a clear headed, un-mind-altering state.
The first scene identifies the perfect day at work and the next is a comatose sleep, with freight train snoring.
Oh how I wish I could be the real test dummy for these commercials.
No makeup needed or faking of symptoms.
I could be a “real star” with believable attributes.
Sadly, I would infect an entire filming crew and eventually put the pharmaceutical company out of business when their claims are unsubstantiated in my world.
So I will continue to do what regular people do.
I will use up the 1500 sheets of facial tissues, eat a bag of navel oranges while screaming, and drink gallons of hot tea.
I will consume enough tomato soup for a month and although the crackers aren’t fresh, I won’t know the difference.
The up side to this malady is perhaps dropping a few pounds, which is good because when my taste buds come home, I’m headed out of the house to my favorite café, for a delectable sandwich of chicken salad and big glass of Mtn. Dew.
May all your colds be fantasy ones. Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org
Have a great day.