|Human rhinovirus (Source)|
"Hhmm, that's odd, I've already had a cold this winter."
Followed, of course, by the realization that one can have more than one cold in a season, year, decade, or epoch. It ain't a "one and done" situation. In the case of the common cold, unlike The Highlander, there can indeed be, more than one.
Nope. Not at all.
Now that opening thingee is what the cause of the common cold looks like under a microscope. What it feels like rampaging through one's sinuses, chest, head, neck, and generally throughout one's body is this -
Some winters I skate by with scarcely a sniffle, only to be hit in the first wonderful, warm days of spring with a massive outbreak of sinus pain, sneezing, coughing, and feeling horribly miserable. Some years I don't get anything. I go through the winter without a care, spring, summer, fall, all virus free.
2016, one cold. That miserable beast I suffered through in December...
"Why don't you just go home? You're going to infect everyone!"
"Will I still get paid if I go home?"
"No, of course not."
"Well, then, I guess we're all shit out of luck." (Again, pardon my French. Yes, I know that's not French. Merde is the French word for that, but "merde out of luck" just sounds wrong.)
Anyhoo, I feel like a deluxe, family size bag of crap. There is a big storm predicted for these environs on the morrow. Oh wait, that would be today, right? Alright, let me rephrase that, a big snow storm, event if you will, is predicted for Thursday, the 9th of February. Predictions vary from a minimum of three inches (remember, we don't do metric here) to a maximum of ten inches. Sources at my place of employment were running about the premises bellowing of the possibility of a foot of snow.
Southern New Englanders are a rather excitable lot. One chap proclaimed, "How about that, in the 50s today, snow tomorrow!" And he, to my certain knowledge, grew up in these parts and the weather in the Northeast can change at the drop of a hat. So he really should know better than to marvel at such commonplace occurrences.
So I just might work from home. Or not. Provided my boss out in Sandy Eggo flashes the "yup, it's okay" to my bosses here at the home office. As of Wednesday, 1700 local, he was unreachable.
Next time, he doesn't get out of town without leaving me his cell phone number. Sigh, well he was a shoe, er, Professional Surface Warfare Officer during his time in the Naval Service. So, yeah, he slipped his mooring, out of touch. I have hopes he will check in at the opening bell on Thursday and I can work from the friendly confines of Chez Sarge. I know the cats like to help when I do that.
Watch. It won't snow at all.
Film at eleven.