I woke up feeling sick even after handfuls of Chinese herbs and mega doses of vitamin C the night before. The Sweetie tried to coo something sympathetic but I could see him recoiling slightly, edging himself away from me and my stuffed up nose, fearful that my germs were going to leap on him at any second. I know I caught it last weekend. It may have been the guy behind me at the airport who coughed so enthusiastically that it actually ruffled my hair like a virus-laden breeze. I shouldn’t have reached for the inflight magazine on the plane. They are germ incubators masquerading as glossy reading material. You never know who has been thumbing through that thing and how many times the pages have been used as a kleenex. The sickness may have been delivered by my niece and nephew who were both extremely phlegmy. At one point I looked down to find a glistening mound of mucous on my thigh, hand delivered by my nephew. Whatever the source, I woke up this morning feeling woe-begotten and sporting a taupe complexion.
Then I stumbled across a brilliant gem on YouTube and had the best laugh of my day. Everything was going to be alright, plugged head or not. I immediately demanded that The Sweetie watch it with me. He just seemed puzzled.
“What are we looking at?” he asked as I laughed uproariously. “It’s just a photo of a cat.”
“But the music!” I yelled,” It’s that horrid Rick Astley song!”
“The cat looks just like Rick Astley, it’s like they’re twins!”
I then forced The Sweetie to watch the ghastly Rick Astley video from the eighties. “You see it don’t you?” I cried.
“Who would look at that cat and then think of Rick Astley and then put it on YouTube?” The Sweetie mused to himself as I continued to slap my knee in delight. He began to back away.
“I am happy for you.” He said as he turned away and left the room, probably suspecting that I have been swilling the cold medicine a little too eagerly.