Nasty colds seem an unavoidable downside of the winter holidays. Perhaps it’s the proximity to so many bodies. Perhaps it’s picking up a random wine glass because, well, that empty one over there couldn’t possibly belong to you. And then again perhaps it’s just the cold. In our little community, this year is no different. No one quite knows who had it first, but we’ve been passing it around like a bad fruit cake. Evidence: the lovely and talented Rachel (one of my very favorite people in the world…and with whom I recently shared a candy cane…) just lauded the minty goodness of Vicks VapoRub on her blog.
My sister and I have both contracted this winter malady and are downing, in concert, the usual litany of home remedies. This morning finds me particularly grouchy, however, as we had a lovely dusting of snow last night (which, come to think of it, is blatant mockery of my white Christmas dreams). With a nasty sore throat and a head that appears to have been exchanged for a cotton ball, it seems ill advised to frolic in the new snow as is my instinct. Instead I shall spend the day wrapped tightly around a cup of ginger tea, as close to the fire as I can get without spontaneously combusting. Sigh.