Turns out it isn't a third cold. It's bronchitis. For the past 2 days I've been bundled up in my flannel PJs under the Mystery Blanket* and drinking Tussin like a teenager with no good connections. I wrote an entry yesterday before Beau got home from work to entertain me. Suffice it to say, it described my activities as playing Enya on loop and attempting to rename the teaspoon. I have nothing to show for my efforts but I am now a fan of Lemon Zinger.
*The Mystery Blanket is a blue and white striped knitted blanket of unknown origins. It appeared in a box of my possessions when I moved out of my father’s home after college. As far as I know, it is not mine. No one in the family knits and no one will claim responsibility for it. While contemplating this fact in my Tussined state, I drew a parallel between the Mystery Blanket and Harry Potter’s Invisibility Cloak, which, you may remember, was a similar enigma when it first appeared. To test this theory, I threw the Mystery Blanket over my head and stood in front of the bathroom mirror. Several minutes later, still able to clearly see my reflection, I resolved to scale back on my subjective dosing methods and not ask Beau for help in further experimentation.
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