Carlos got a cold, and I kept myself from saying ‘I won’t get it’ because I knew Karma would get me. So, I kept saying to myself, for four days, ‘I am not getting that cold.’ And it worked.
But then Friday night, as I drifted off to sleep, I said to myself, ‘I hope I don’t get it.’ And Saturday morning it was there. And Sunday it was there. And Monday it was there, and I phoned my boss to say I wouldn’t be in that day. Carlos seemed shocked, and as I predicted, he said to me:
“It’s not that bad.”
I sniffled, snorted and phlegm’d something like:
“I don’t want to spread it around at work.”
And again, he said:
“It’s not that bad. It’s no big deal.”
Says the man who had been sick and sniffling and snorting and phlegm-ing and wrapping himself in blankets and drinking hot tea and coughing and wheezing for seven days.
And yet me, 48 hours in, I’m making too much of it?
Wait until I feel better, honey.
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