I offer a very lackadaisical read this morning. As George’s common cold improves, I begin flaunting a similar version late Monday evening. You can hear my sneezes a mile away. My nose blowing sounds like a duck calling for its mate. I don’t believe they will want me at the discovery shop tomorrow for the pricing class or on Wednesday for the many books that arrived over the weekend. Bobbie tells me that not only am I high acid, but that my immune system is down. I don’t argue, but I remind her that I kissed him. My only excuse.
I remind myself that I am a pariah.