It all began innocently enough. My daughter came over, the usual blend of hugs, laughter, and… congestion. I noticed the sniffles but, being a hopeful optimist or delusional parent, I thought, "Oh, it’s probably allergies. She’ll be fine." I couldn’t have been more wrong if I tried. Little did I know that slight congestion was a Trojan horse, carrying an army of germs ready to wage biological warfare on our entire household.
Fast forward a few days, and the first soldier fell: my stepson. He woke up, stomping down the stairs with a muffled "Bruh," sounding like someone had plugged his nose. It was then that the realization hit me: we were doomed. Completely, utterly doomed.
But the final blow? That was when I—unsuspecting, naive me—was struck. And not just struck, but absolutely brutalized by a constant barrage of sneezes. These weren’t your average, run-of-the-mill sneezes. No, these were explosive, gut-wrenching blasts that could have registered on the Richter scale. I’m talking about the kind of sneezes that make people across the room shout, “Bless you!” while also backing away like you’ve just turned into Patient Zero of a new pandemic.
And just when I thought, "Hey, maybe I can handle this," my body decided to up the ante. Along came a dry cough that felt like I’d swallowed a cactus, followed by congestion so bad that breathing became an extreme sport. You know that feeling when your nose is so blocked you can’t even remember what normal breathing feels like? Yeah, that. But then, in a cruel twist of fate, the nose drip from hell began—a constant, steady trickle that made tissues my new best friend. My nose was either a rock-hard, impenetrable fortress of congestion, or an uncontrollable leaky faucet. No in-between. Just chaos.
And because misery loves company, guess what? The lady of the house got sick too. Now we’re like two wheezing zombies, shuffling around the house with her half-crumpled tissues scattered like confetti after the worst party and regret, while the kids—who brought this plague upon us in the first place—have already bounced back, acting like they didn’t just nuke our immune systems.
So here we are. The first COLD-WAR of the fall winter season. Where every breath is a struggle, every sneeze is a battle, and every cough feels like it’s trying to make my lungs escape through my throat. Pray for us. We’re holding on… barely.
Add comment
Comments