I hate being sick, but I am told that the feeling I get from plain old, over-the-counter cold medicine is what a lot of people pay good money for in shady street corner deals.
If I happen to be sick during the work week, I have to decide between taking the day off to sleep (which really isn't necessary, medically) or spending the day freaking out my co-workers. I am told that I was riding in an elevator full of strangers, and said out loud, "Man, that Santa is one fast fat man." It was August.
But the worst was when my overflowing bedside trashcan was zapped by a power surge from the electrical outlet, and the organic matter in the tissues came to life and began rifling my sock drawer in a hunt for food. I lured it outside with a trail of semi-sweet chocolate chips, and I think it disintegrated in the rain... but I have heard apocryphal reports of a blob monster living in the Chesapeake bay...
No, I'm not on cold meds right now. Why do you ask?
