The Black Plague Cold of Death

Please don't misunderstand me when I say that I know there are actual dying people in the world. There are actual tumors and brain hemorrhages and accidents and awful things. So I'm not trying to compare my Black Plague Cold of Death to the people who are experiencing real death.

But still, I have caught myself the Black Plague Cold of Death, yo.

And the odds are 99 to 1 that it was transferred to my own body from the grubby, snot smeared hands of a tiny kindergarten human. Because I've been hanging out with them for eleven school days straight except for the one day where I was hanging out at the courthouse. It's always the same for me. My throat feels like I'm swallowing razor blades for a couple of days. Then my throat starts experiencing volumes of phlegm trickling down the back of it at an alarming rate. I don't sleep for two nights. Three if I happen to be REALLY lucky. Then I sleep and I am happy happy happy but I wake up with all the snot coming out of my face. I don't understand this pattern. It seems reversed, no? Shouldn't I have the snot in my face that then allows gravity to do its thang which will lead to Phlegm Trickle in the throat which will lead to a sore throat? How is it that my body works in reverse?

So, last night, I finally slept. But I woke up with drainage out the nose, sinus pressure, and, in general, a head that felt fuzzy and enlarged.

Off I went, however, like a good little substitute teacher, to a classroom full of kindergartners because I only get my long term pay raise if I'm there EVERY DAY. And, listen, I'd feel bad for all the germ exposing I'm doing but there is SO much snot coming out of all the faces that I don't even feel bad about it.

Yes. You read that correctly. I actually don't even feel bad. Because you know what I don't do? I don't pick my nose and then impatiently grab the nearest hand that isn't my own. I don't forget to cover my mouth when I cough. I don't wipe my nose with a tissue and then hand it to someone else to throw away. I don't cry so hard because my daddy left me at school that I shoot snot out of my nose and onto the table so that the teacher has to wipe it up. I cough into my bent arm. I blow my own nose. I'm not the one spreading this plague.

IT CAME FROM THE LITTLE ANKLE BITERS IN THE VERY FIRST PLACE.

Anyhoo. Yes, I am on day five of the Black Plague Cold of Death. I'm counting down the days until I can plop myself down on the couch with the full intent of recovering. However, I'm currently hauling myself into a classroom with 29 kindergartners. Today, it was SNOW and FIVE DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS BREAK and WE STILL HAVE A SUBSTITUTE. The volume was at psychotic levels which was excellent for my fuzzy head. I couldn't talk over them because my voice is half gone. We made Christmas Tree crafts and did math and read a book about a Bad Christmas Kitty.

We survived.

But kind of just barely.

It should be noted that I really do like kindergartners very, very much. I just do not enjoy them quite as much when snot is rushing out of their noses. Or mine.