Moi: Current Office Cootie

I'm blogging, despite my very grave illness, because pregnant ladies are bossy.

I have a cold. How is it possible that I, a resident of California, a state which mandates that you leave at least one window open all year round (provided you live above the first floor), thereby allowing fresh air in and cootied air out, could have a cold? Simply put, my officemates and I seem to be playing a month-long game of Hot Potato, except with cooties instead of potatoes. I'm sure the one involving carbs is way more fun.

As per the usual, when I am sick, everyone must know, mostly because I like the attention. But people are avoiding me like I'm Typhoid Mary! I suppose I can't blame them. I've had three sneezing fits today. That means I've sneezed at least 30 times, expelling my cooties, nestled comfortably in their little droplets of saliva, at approximately 55-60 mph EVERY TIME. And before you get disgusted, yes, I DO cover my mouth, but sometimes things just go wrong. And cooties escape.

I can't even bring myself to contemplate the origin of the cooties that have taken up residence in my nose, banishing me to mouth-breather status for the time being. If it was J or M, I don't think I'd mind. But if it was anybody else I work with, I would have a hard time coping with the knowledge that I got my cooties from THEM. I'm disgusted by quite a few people here.

Of course, I could have picked it up from one of the dirty whores at my gym who refuse to clean off the machines after use. Or from the spout on the water cooler (which I thoroughly rubbed down with a Lysol Disinfecting Wipe).

Futile mental exercises aside, wherever whence my cootie did sprung, it's a cootie and I am bound by the ancient laws of nature to keep it moving and progressing. I will honor this ancient mandate. Guiltlessly.