Usually, it goes like this: Darwin gets sick, mopes and moans about the house, sleeps constantly. I continue kissing him and whatnot because I am not a person who worries much about germs. Darwin gets better. Miraculously, I do not get sick.
Or like this: I get sick, whine a lot and make Darwin fetch me things. He makes grossed-out faces when I want to kiss him because he is a person who worries about germs. I get better. A week or two later, Darwin gets sick.
This time I'm about a day behind him. Saturday we both felt fine. Sunday he felt like poo, and I felt fine. Yesterday, we were both miserable. Today, I still feel terrible, and he's feeling a little better even though he forgot his Aleve Cold & Sinus this morning. So I'm hoping that means I'll feel better tomorrow.
It's funny to me how people say, "Oh, it's just a cold." Sure, I don't have a fever, and I'm not hanging my head over a toilet bowl, but I'd wager I feel just as bad. How am I supposed to work when I'm sneezing and mopping my nose constantly? When I have a headache, and I can't breathe with my mouth closed?
Mostly, I just feel gross, and I hate being around people when I feel gross. In high school, the absolute worst days were the days I had a cold. I was always so paranoid, terrified that boogers or Kleenex crumbs were clinging to my reddened nostrils.
Now I'm at work, and I worry that each sniffle is grossing out my office mate. I worry this icky taste in my mouth translates to a plume of nasty breath every time I speak. I worry that the sight of the wadded tissue on my desk makes people want to flee the room.
So, blog readers, be glad you're a safe distance from me. Germs can't travel through the computer - at least not yet.