It's Fun to be Sick!

Or, rather, it could have been.

I've been playing around with a cold/allergy combination for the past several weeks. I ended up taking two days off last week to recover, and while I'm getting better, there's still some achiness and congestion to overcome. I've been taking Tylenol and Nyquil (for the sake of full disclosure, it's been generic Walgreens "Nyquil." I've never been able to bring myself to purchase name-brand medication.), but had I known about this, I would likely have been all over it. Or, at least, I would have looked at the box a few times before walking out with a generic.

The cold's been a drag. In addition to the physical discontent, there are mental components, as well. Being sick turns you into a pariah. I attended an engagement retreat this weekend with AMF, and I was the Johnny Appleseed of germs. It started with my coughs punctuating the room of couples, and by Sunday afternoon, coughs joined mine like dogs hearing other dogs barking. I felt hated. You could tell no one wanted to shake my hand at the end of the affair.

The retreat itself was full of strangeness. While I'm glad AMF and I now have it under our belts as a shared experience, I'd be lying if I didn't say it had its fair share of crap attached to it. The sign greeting us set the standard for my expectations:

Beyond our surprise that this was a correct spelling-optional event, we were also surprised to be housed with roommates. I was surprised to be housed with Raoul. I was doubly surprised to be awoken on Friday night by Raoul speaking in Spanish while he slept and then letting off a loud fart before slipping back into slumber. So, it goes. Raoul and his fiancee' seem to have snuck off home on Saturday night, leaving me to a Spanish-free fartless night. Maybe it was the fires of lust that drove Raoul to sneak off site, but it certainly could have been an aversion to my germs.

Anyways, the net effect of the weekend is that AMF and I are now engaged to the EXTREME.