The Cold

I’m nearly two weeks into The Cold now. One thing that no one tells you about becoming a parent is that your children will bring home new and amazing forms of microscopic life. Martin had the cold first. Ella had it at nearly the same time but was most successful at fighting it off. In me it started as a cough and an inflamed throat, the kind that transforms my usually squeaky tenor into Barry White. I really enjoy sounding like Barry White, except that it means the worst is yet to come. I was occasionally feverish, but I never felt like a visit to the doctor would do any good. I was down all weekend before last, and stayed home from work until Wednesday of last week. On Wednesday, my boss heard my coughing and instructed me to return home, but I pressed on. Same on Thursday. Thursday night I relapsed and got no sleep at all. I stayed home Friday again, and rested all weekend, again. Needless to say, Maria is tired of The Cold. I am still coughing but it is tolerable.

One consolation is that I am nearly caught up with my reading. I read three magazines every month cover to cover: Wired, Scientific American, and Jazz Times. And I am perpetually behind in my reading. But this month I stand a chance of actually finishing the November editions before the end of November. I can’t remember the last time that happened.

Another benefit is that I have had a chance to learn about the Deutsche Bundesliga, the German soccer leagues. Thanks to Wikipedia, I now understand how teams move between the first and second leagues, and I finally understand the offsides rule in soccer. These things are important.