This is a weepy cold. How weepy? This afternoon, I called up my mother and left the following message on her answering machine:
“Mummmmy. Mummmmy. Mum-MAY. Mummy, Mummy, Mummy. Mum-MAY-“
Midway through, she picked up.
“Oh, my goodness. Do you have a terrible cold?”
“I could tell. Well, sort of. I mean, to be honest, I can’t really understand what you’re saying at that pitch.”
This proves what I’ve always suspected: I could just call my Mom and whine incoherently into the phone, and she would still give me sympathy.