It's as cold as metal in this small valley. I also, have a cold, just the common kind. It's a drippy, miserable kind of existence, morbid with tissues and bottles of tonic. Small trashcans follow me around the apartment, begging to be filled with the tissues, used. My left eyelid is droopy, and water runs from both my eyes at any provocation.
My goal for this day is to make it to the local grocery store for greek yogurt and bread and dogfood. But at least, I am writing. I drink large glasses of water, and take my allergy medicine as if it were a new religion. Every once in a while, a storm of sneezing takes hold of me. I feel particularly stupid, but my head is full.
The cats snuggle around me, and hang upside down from the ceiling to get my attention. But I know I can be replaced with a 'stacked' feeder, and the electric blanket. And a dripping faucet.
Walking the dog, Max, is torture.