I think I'm coming down with a cold. I'm at that stage where you're not that sick yet, but you know you're going to have your brain oozing out of your nose in a few days and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop it from happening.
Which, I think, is the worst part. Because, after all, the anticipation is always worse than the actual thing.
Right now, my nose can't decide what it wants: My right nostril is running like an Olympic marathon gold medalist with a full bladder, an angry bee in his pants and a pack of rabid wild dogs high on angel dust on his heels. My left nostril, on the other hand, is blocked like the arsehole of a constipated goat with a tin can, some rocks and videotapes of the entire run of Days Of Our Lives in its digestive tract.
Ah, well, must persevere. With any luck, it'll go away quickly. Otherwise, well, a day or two's worth of sick leave never hurt anyone, right? :)
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