It started with my waking up with a nasty sore throat, and it’s gone downhill since.
Of course, it being the Christmas Season, I’m trying to be as positive as possible. So when I awakened with that throat problem, I just shrugged it off as being caused by the heat being on all night.
When I got out of bed to discover I was achy all over, I just smiled and told myself that my running was obviously having an effect. Then I found the silver lining by reminding myself that Monday was my day off from running.
Plenty of time for my sore muscles and creaky joints to mend.
It’s going to be a silent night at The House on the Hill, but only because there’s no one here to whine to about how sick I am.
You’ll just have to do for now, Modern Philosophers.
Trust me, My Sweet Irish Girlfriend did her best to take care of me from her side of the Atlantic Ocean. I could sense that she was in close contact with her village’s Council of Leprechaun Elders all day as she desperately searched for a cure for what ailed me.
Her constant course of action was to plead with me to leave work and return to The House on the Hill to rest. I constantly replied that it wasn’t in my work ethic to bail on the job once I’d arrived for the day.
Besides, going home to an empty house with no one to nurse me back to health didn’t sound at all appealing.
I did compromise, however, (because that’s what you do when you love someone!) and agreed to stop at the chemist (her adorable Irish way of speaking) on the way home to pick up some medicine.
It appears that the Irish healthcare system treats a deadly Christmas cold differently than we do here in American.
I sent the above photo to my girlfriend, showing her the medications I had purchased to battle the germs that have decided to Christmas in my body.
The Sweet Irish Girl texted back, in a manner that might have been short on sweet, but heavy on the Irish temper, that I had not only bought the wrong kind of medicine, but that I had also erred in buying instant mashed potatoes.
Trust me, Modern Philosophers, I know not to argue with the Irish when it comes to potatoes. However, I think the cold medicine was spot on and ice cream makes everything better…especially a sore throat.
Plus, do you have any idea how difficult it is to win an argument with an angry Irish woman who also went to Law School?
Anyone who knows me well enough, though, understands that I’m a big baby when I’m sick and I’m not giving up my ice cream just because the person who cares for me knows that dairy isn’t good for an upset stomach.
I’m older, so that makes me wiser, right?
No, it just makes me an old fart stupidly arguing with the beautiful younger woman who loves me. I blame it on the germs.
They made their triumphant return today with this beauty, and suddenly I’m sick. There has got to be a connection there.
Oh well, the tie is off, the Santa hat is on, and a big bowl of mashed potatoes awaits.
I know that germs have Christmas wishes, too, but why did they have to ask Santa for a warm, cozy place to spend the holiday? Maybe the better question to ask is: Why did Santa Claus send the germs to vacation inside of me?
Hope you’re all feeling much better than I. Happy Holidays!