No, this is not the cold you had last week. This is a plague of deathy death and it is much much muhuhuhuhuch worse.

Nick got a bad cold last week, and what did he do? He powered through. He coughed a lot - a lot lot - and said he didn't feel great. But on the whole, he still did all the Nick things that he always does. Work, home improvements, etc etc.

In fact, he's still coughing. It is a bad one.

Yah. And then yesterday morning I woke up with his cold.

But not just his cold. One that was much, much worse than his. I felt that he wasn't taking my cold seriously enough.

And how was he so mean as to give it to me? Doesn't he know that I have asthma and everything goes to my lungs and I always get twice as sick as him?

(This is, in fact, true. He's strong like bull.)

He was all, "Oh, stop being a martyr."

So then I walked around muttering about how he was raised by wolves and such. I mean, in between the Neti-potting and paroxysms of coughing.

He came home last night and said, "The first day is the worst. You'll feel better tomorrow."

But today, today I woke up shaking, in a cold sweat, still with this giant quantity of phlegm sitting where my lungs used to reside. My body aches. I have no energy.

And I feel very, terribly sorry for myself.

I probably won't make it to Christmas.

However. Tomorrow, if I'm still alive, I'm doing a give-away on the blog.