Friday I’m lovesick

In nursing the Poet these past few days through a nasty bout of bronchitis, I managed to contract something that makes me cough half as much as she does, yet sound immeasurably worse while doing so. My first thought was to sleep long enough that I woke up feeling great.

Sadly, the rest-can-cure-all-things-except-internal-bleeding course of treatment has not worked since my twenties. And really, who had time for such self-indulgences?

And then I thought: ingest copious amounts of over the counte...