An Open Letter to the Common Cold

Dear Common Cold,

I haven't seen you in a year. You look well; traveling looks good on you. But we need to talk.

Please don't think that I'm ungrateful for what you've done for us in the past year. You've left the kids alone, and never bothered Mara during her pregnancy. I haven't experienced any of your symptoms during '10. You've been good to all of us.

You have a lot of strong traits that I admire (rarely overstaying your 3-5 day window of attack, predictability, persistence, etc), but timing was never your strong suit. I understand; the change of seasons in the north east is like Christmas morning to you. So many weak immune systems to attack. I can't really say I blame you. It's a sickness. You do what you need to do to survive.

But come on. Really? You needed to come now? Not a week later? Or earlier? I don't know if you've been reading my new blog (you were on Facebook recently, so I know you've seen my post), but I'm kind of going through a sensitive recovery period right now. When I cough, my head really hurts. I know you tried to give me the non-coughing cold, but they were out-of-stock. Still, I'm sure you could have let me switch with someone. Kind of selfish on your part, no? Looks ugly on you, pal.

And the dizziness. I know that's not entirely your fault; I did have surgery in the ear after all. But why the extra fluid up there? Was that really necessary? It's overkill. You're not usually that mean-spirited. Is something bothering you at home?

I'll have you know that I don't appreciate you attacking my wife at the same time. You've given her an unusual symptom of extreme dizziness, which is cold-hearted, even for you. Leaving Ryan and Emma with not one but two parents who can't seem to walk around without bumping into the walls? That's downright villainy, sir. Hannibal Lecter wouldn't even go that far. 

I'll tell you what. All will be completely forgiven if you go away....very soon. Like, now. We'll let bygones be bygones. You can come back and attack me any other time. It'll be fun; we'll get snot all over the pillow; we'll scare everyone in the house with my ridiculously loud sneezes; we'll drink tea, eat soup, and act like big babies and get pampered. Just like old times. 

But not now. Go away, ok? And leave my wife alone too. She doesn't deserve this. 

See you soon (but not too soon).

Best,

Dave

P.S. I'm still mad about the cough. You better take that with you, too.