The One Thing We All Have in Common

Yesterday as my son A was telling me his nose was stuffed up, I suddenly became conscious of the soreness creeping up my throat and into my sinuses. Uh-oh. E-Grrrl sneezed three times and I had an epiphany: They don’t call it the common cold for nothing.

We have been listening to each other trying to delicately snarf snot up our noses. We’ve been congregating around the Kleenex box and creating our own medical waste depot as the used tissues stack up. I think a biohazard sign should replace the door knocker on the front entrance. My eyes are red, my teeth hurt, and I want my blankie. My kids, carrying their Dad’s sturdy, disease-resistant DNA, are more or less carrying on as usual, toting cough drops in their pockets.

Because of my heart, I can’t take any form of cold medicines or use decongestants. They could send my heart rhythm into a tailspin because they’re stimulants—in the same category for me as caffeine, cocaine, speed,--all those things my mean doctor has forbidden me from consuming. Low-life entrepreneurs know how to turn Sudafed into crystal meth. Why don’t these people put their smarts to good use?

I’m waiting for the Drug Enforcement Agency to awards MBAs to enterprising drug dealers who decide to go straight. “Yes, you should hire me because I have a DEA MBA in recognition of my ability to take $10 worth of cold medicine and convert it to a highly desired, energy-enhancing product using FDA approved ingredients. It's sold at 1000 percent markup using guerilla marketing techniques. Production and warehousing are done from my home. I successfully managed this low-overhead 200K cottage industry using unorthodox supply chains and distributors to deliver my product to a cash-strapped market with poor credit. In the process, I’ve created jobs for residents of low-income neighborhoods who lack formal education. I should be on The Apprentice! I’m the ultimate American success story.”

And I’m the ultimate washed-out blogger with boogers. Time to grab my blankie, and hit the sofa. But first, another hit from the Kleenex box.

September 23, 2005