My cold, the shapeshifter

Anybody ever notice that when you get a cold, it’s a little different every day? Every night is like going to bed on Christmas Eve, wondering, “What ever shall I have tomorrow?”

One day you’ll be graced with a fatigue that envelopes you and forces you into a haze or fitful sleep. The next it might be nasal passages imitating leaky spigots. The next day might offer a dry cough that, while painful, lures you into the false hope that the end is near. After that, perhaps an itchy or sore throat and a general stuffed-up feeling.

Maybe illnesses could be more fun if we make a guessing game out it over what will happen tomorrow.

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My cold, the shapeshifter

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