As I complained on Wednesday: I’ve got a cold and I’m feeling grumpy. Wheezing, sneezing, stuffed up, head in a fog.
No one has suffered with a cold the way I am suffering now. I feel achy! My throat itches!
Just look at me:
I’m supposed to write in this condition? I can’t even open mail.
Of course, if you talk to my cold-hearted wife, Lisa, she acts as if I’m just a big baby. I called her on it. I said, “You resent that I’m sick. That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t believe me, and you resent it. In some twisted way, you are jealous!”
So she looks up from the newspaper and says, “It should be a new TV show. I’d make a million dollars. HUSBANDS WITH A COLD. Every woman I talk to, it’s like, ‘I’ve got to get a haircut at 4:00, do grocery shopping, my house is a mess . . . and my husband has a cold.'”
Then she laughed in a cruel, mocking manner. My own wife! And the laugher, dear reader, was directed at me — and husbands everywhere. Men, we are under attack!
Ah-choo! Ugh. The tissue box is all the way across the room and I can’t get up in my condition. Hold on a sec. “Honey? HON-EY??!!”