Mouth Breather

What started as a vaguely dry throat last Saturday and edged into a very minor cough on Sunday exploded into a hellacious cold on Monday. Luck had it that this was an insane week work-wise, which meant slogging through with a tissue more or less permanently attached to my nose and a constant stream of apologies to those around me (especially my fellow move crew members on Wednesday and Thursday) for my coughing.

There was an uptick Thursday evening, followed by a descent into the pit of hell today. I've been sniffling and hacking all day. I look like hell. The right side of my head is so congested I feel like I've been subjected to a radical change in altitude, but only partway. And, of course, I've become a mouth breather.

As I dragged myself from Client #1 this afternoon toward Muni, en route to Client #2 (whom I called and rescheduled, so unable was I to fathom doing a decent job with him while my head was seething liquid), I passed a young-ish guy in a suit on Montgomery Street. He was talking into his cell and bracing himself against the freezing blast of wind that was blowing through the downtown canyons, telling whoever was on the other end of the line, "It's so damn cold here." And sure enough, it is.

Thus begins Memorial Day weekend: the weather's crappy, my head might explode, and I look a sight from the maw of hell. Bring on summer!
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In less whinging news, I could not be more proud of my beloved J, whose blog appears to have been deemed the Best Expatriate Weblog in A Fistful of Euro's Satin Pajama Awards competition, at least as of this writing.

J, we always knew that you were (and are) the smartest, snarkiest, most interesting American living in EUROPE. This just goes to show it.