I have a cold

I have a cold. I don't like colds; they are uncomfortable, but generally not terrible enough to merit a sick day. They make you feel slow, rather like you're moving through water but without the buoyancy. Your thoughts seem to meet with obstruction, materializing only at the speed of speech. Whatever wise man said, "think before you speak" clearly had never suffered from full sinuses.

However, there is one sneaky little part of me that enjoys a good cold. When the sniffles besiege, you can justify wearing sweat pants just a tad more often. Comfort food (the sort that is conspicuous only in its absence from my dictatorial diet plan) can sneak its way into daily meals. Best of all, no one judges you for going to bed early!

Ah sleep... such a wonderful state. Why does my age group look down upon it? Since I've been a little girl, I have been embarrassed of early bedtimes. This love of rest plagued me into college. Why is it "cool" to stay up late and deprive yourself of such a natural and necessary phase? Interestingly, everyone I know (including myself, oddly) is constantly moaning about how tired they are. Yet when 10:30 rolls around, it's dorky to climb into bed. So, it's trendy to complain about being sleep deprived but it's out of the question to do something about it? When my dog sleeps all day and all night, everyone thinks it's cute.

While in this blissful condition of slumber the other night, I had a terrible nightmare. In it, I was visited by an evil witch. She cursed me. I would forevermore be doomed to wear only high heels. No more happy barefoot trotting. No more clopping around in flip flops. Horror of horrors... no more pink MaryJane Crocs. Only 4 inch stilettos. Funny, when I was little I had nightmares featuring monsters and aliens and tornados. Now I apparently fear habitual footaches. I think this proves that I may have been a more interesting person as a young child.