So, I have a cold. Yes, another one.
I’m so embarrassed about my inferior immune system that I resolved not to say anything to my coworkers about feeling ill. Of course, the fact that I look like shit and sound like the cartoon version of a person with a stuffed up nose make it harder for me to pull off the illusion of health.
First thing in the morning, I had to talk to one of my editors about something. We settled the business at hand, and then she said, “Um, is your nose horribly stuffed up?”
“Yebs, ib is,” I said. “I hab a cold. It’s OK doh, I gob sick dis weekenb, so I don’t think you can catch ib.”
I don’t think people believe me, though, because everyone in my office has started wearing surgical masks. I mean, I don’t want to talk things too personally, but I’m pretty sure that this is on my account.
In other news, I have definitely decided to stop licking the poles on the F train, you’ll be happy to know.