Wednesday, January 11, 2017
It has a name...
I thought it was some form of the plague, but no... it is "a man cold."
Pretty sure that is a snide term made up by those of the female persuasion to imply that men are wussy when it comes to being sick.
No shit. We are the providers. The protectors. It hits us harder when some little "bug" we can't see or squish bites us in the ass. It is bad when it takes all we have to make it from the couch to the fridge. Or, the toilet. Women wouldn't understand the pain when all they have to do is look pretty and birth children to keep the human race going.
Plus, it feels like that little bug put broken glass in my throat while I was asleep. I can't talk, breathe, or eat without it hurting. That ain't right. Eating is one of my favorite things.
Joan did make me a chocolate malt. The cold felt good on my sore throat. Apparently, you cannot just drink chocolate malts all day long. Pretty sure it wasn't a man who made up that rule.
So, there won't be any dolphin photos for a while. No scooter tag. No e-biking. Heck, Joan had some running to do today, so I was on my own for a few hours. I know I am sick: I warmed up chicken noodle soup. That is supposed to make you feel better... I think of it as: sick food. I only eat chicken noodle soup when I'm sick.
Plus, the TV remote is all the way over on the end table... about 7 feet from the couch. Women don't know the agony of that, because they would think ahead to bring the remote with them.
Yeah, they just don't get it.
On edit: I had originally written "RV remote" instead of "TV remote." My buddy Marty pointed it out to me. In a slightly smart-ass-y sorta way. I would not have expect anything else... since I did point out to him his mention of an "electric wiper" right after the mention of a porta-potty on his boat, on the C-Dory owners forum.