3/13/03
The famous chemist, Linus Pauling, believed that massive doses of vitamins and minerals (especially vitamin C) could protect a person from illness.
Linus is dead (apparently vitamin C doesn't do all that much good). However, when it comes to taking care of a head cold, I'm willing to put Dr. Pauling's theories to the test.
Debbie gave me this cold. She's getting over it just as I'm in the throes of dripping, coughing and sneezing around the office and at home. That makes me want to snap her with a wet dish towel. But I can't do that. It's not her fault. She received the virus from her co-workers. It's not as if they willingly accepted their colds either. So the only person I have to blame is myself. I touched Deb's hands. I kissed her. I swallowed her disease as readily as I would a Harry and David Strawberries n' Cream chocolate confection (which is something you really should try, if you can find them).
So here I sit. The tiny, constant trickle of mucus from my nasal passages is slowly killing me. What doesn't flow out of my nose tickles the back of throat causing me to sound like an old coal miner sitting directly behind the exhaust of a diesel engine backstage at a Black Crowe's concert during "intermission".
Tom, the guy I carpool with each morning, can't be too pleased about my cold. He voluntarily locks himself in a tightly sealed Mazda with me and the bazillions of micro-organisms that fly out of my mouth and nostrils every five seconds or so. He's going to catch my cold. He knows it. I know it. There's nothing we can do. I suppose he'll want to snap me with a wet dish towel. Can't say that I blame him.
The really hard part is the necessity to behave as if your body isn't teaming with tiny little invaders. I was in a meeting yesterday and my boss asked me a question. I looked at her and had no idea how to respond. I tried to make something up, but the cold virus had burrowed deep into my brain rendering it useless. The only thing that came out was something like, "We're going to do this thing with a thing that we'll pay for out of the budget we use for this and that."
The same thing happened at home. Debbie knew how bad I felt so she suggested that we order a pizza and keep our activity levels to a minimum. I felt it was my duty to demonstrate to my wife that when I have a cold, I'm perfectly capable of ignoring my symptoms and conducting myself in the same manner as any rugged man of the 00's would. I cooked a moderately labor intensive dinner, cleaned-up the kitchen, gave Allie a bath and wished that I had listened to my wife the entire time.
What really makes me mad is this cold thing is distracting me from what I really wanted to tell you about: the new microwave.
I love this thing.
It has a touch screen menu that tells you everything that's happening inside the machine. It even has recipes stored in it. What's more, you don't have to guess how long to cook your stuff. The microwave senses the amount of vapor coming from your food and halts the nuking process at precisely the proper temperature, automatically. It's a miracle that can be found right there, in my very own kitchen.
Sometimes, at night, I sneak downstairs and stare at the new microwave. The touch screen stays lit 24/7 and emits a comforting, green glow that lets you know it's always awake and ready to serve you. The only other appliance that comes close to pleasing me the way this thing does is the refrigerator. Deb and I agree that we could never go back to the days when we didn't have an ice and chilled-water compartment in the door. I know what you're thinking, but I don't count TVs and computers as "appliances".
Electric woks and vacuums, those are appliances.
One last thing: Did you send me that email?