Crud and Mud
Winter’s here, and you feel lousy: You’re coughing and sneezing; your muscles ache; your nose is an active mucus volcano. These symptoms — so familiar at this time of year — can mean only one thing: Tiny fanged snails are eating your brain. ~ Dave Barry, American author and columnist
When I wrote my last post, I truly intended to take only a few days off, then get right back to work.
It didn’t happen that way, and I apologize. Some things can’t be helped.
Like crud and mud.
My son Domer came home a few days before Christmas, bringing the “galloping crud” along with him.
Some early gift, huh?
I used to average a winter cold annually, right around Thanksgiving. Often, it went to laryngitis or a sinus infection.
But since the COVID Pandemic, my immune system seems to have become more robust, and I’ve managed to avoid that misery.
Vaccinations, sensible health habits, and staying away from crowds are a powerful antidote.
Domer has been pretty much the same.
But this year, I guess we were ripe for the crud. He had one good day (the day he arrived) before succumbing to it — and I followed suit five days later.
The coughing, sore throat, chills, runny nose, stuffy nose, and general malaise made for a less-than-enjoyable holiday. We masked up to attend church services, managed to cook some decent healthy meals, and opened our presents surrounded by tissues and sanitizing wipes.
As soon as he left to go back to work, the other bane of this season struck: Mud.
Here in Central Illinois, we usually expect to see snow by this time of year, but guess what?
The ground is bare. Except for lots of mud.
We’ve had rain and this “perma-cloud” thing that’s hovered overhead for weeks on end, meaning poor Monk can’t go outside without bringing the outdoors in.
Sick as I’ve been, I’ve found myself bending double to wash and dry his filthy feet — and then dragging out the Swiffer to clean the floors from what I invariably overlooked.
Snow might be wet, but at least it’s a clean wet.
If I wanted to live with mud, I’d buy a nice working farm … somewhere down South, where at least it’s warm!
