Synapses firing at NyQuil speed

I hate being sick. Okay, hate’s a pretty strong word – I don’t really hate anything. Let’s say that I severely dislike "being sick"s guts. I feel like I’m plodding along, dragging my head through the muck and mire, which is mostly green and yellow and has clogged every major orifice and cavity in my upper respiratory system.

I must have coughed up at least three lungs’ worth of congestion in the past couple of days. My brain is stuck on slomo playback, and I have just enough energy to make it to the couch, where I toss and turn and fondly but vaguely remember what it’s like to sleep.

Then perspective rears its pesky head. After all, this is only a cold. It’ll be mostly gone next week, whereas the people in Southeast Asia have a lot worse problems that won’t be going away any time soon. They need food, water, medicine, sanitary conditions and heavy trash pickup. Sure, they have elephants, but it’ll take a lot more than that to bring them back from hunger, thirst, disease and mental anguish.

I have it on good authority that the Mercy Corps is doing just that. Please find it in your heart to help these people help those who really need it. According to my source, 91% of contributions make it directly into the field as program support.

Every little bit helps, y’all. So do what you can. Or I’ll come to your house and give you my cold.