I wonder why it is that sometimes the smallest, most
insignificant things in life can be the most annoying.
I wonder why it is that sometimes the smallest, most insignificant things in life can be the most annoying. For example, paper cuts hurt like heck, yet they’re only a little tiny slice. We haven’t done something major like broken a bone, yet every time we come in contact with the cut the pain in instantaneous.
The same holds true for pebbles. Take a pebble as small as a pea, throw it across the yard or into a lake and nothing happens. But take a long walk and get a small pebble in your shoe, everything changes. If you don’t stop and take the pebble out, a variety of things can happen: The bottom of your foot can quickly bruise, or if you walk on the side of your foot trying to avoid contact with the pebble you can throw your hip or back out. All because of a silly little rock.
Colds are another small annoyance that can stop us in our tracks. Recently the common cold has managed to strike down five of the six members of our family. We all react in various ways to this cold, yet one constant remains – our perception.
In our minds it’s only a cold, nothing that can stop us from getting on with our lives, so we do. We go to work, school, the gym. We continue with our incredibly busy schedules, and while we’re running at full speed we’re not always sure we’re driving in the right direction.
The common cold may not make us bedridden, but it’s guaranteed to mess us up. We walk around with noses red from constant wiping. In our house we’re constantly hiding the tissue box from one another and our voices are rough and scratchy. When I answer the phone with a cold, my voice gets so low people assume they’re talking to my husband. Coughing interrupts our every sentence.
And I’ve yet to have a cold where my hearing isn’t affected. Kids at school ask for books on dogs and I’ll think they’ve said “dolls.” “Cars” turns into “stars” and “cats” to “bats.” Suddenly everyone around me sounds as if they have a speech impediment. Or worse, their lips are moving but the voice seems to be on mute. My own kids could use this time to talk about me behind my back and I’d be clueless.
But this temporary loss of hearing does have its advantages. No longer do I need my selective hearing skills. The cold takes care of all that.
Colds also wreak havoc with our PG&E bill. When I’m suffering from chills, another member of the family is throwing open windows to let in the cold air. The heater spends most of its time shifting off and on as fast as it can. In time I worry the heater will simply give out, exhausted from trying to keep up with our fevers and chills. Still, it’s only a cold.
Colds also don’t elicit sympathy from people. Get the stomach flu, people will feel sorry for you. Have a migraine, people will wince in sympathy pains. But get a cold and the only one lending a sympathetic ear will be a fellow cold sufferer. And that’s only if they can hear what you’re saying.
Luckily, all but one member of our family is on the tail end of their cold. She’s still clutching the tissue box as if her life depended on it, looking at us strangely when we speak and alternating between piling on or peeling off sweatshirts and sweaters.
Since she’s the last in a long line of cold suffers, she’s managed to get a bit of sympathy from us. Most of the time we encourage her to stay in her room and rest. I wish it was because we were immensely compassionate. But the stark reality is that most of us don’t want to go another round with the common cold. It’s a battle we’ll inevitably lose.
