My common cold

I've had a bad cold this week. Tuesday was the first day of my (still short) professional working career that I've ever called in sick. I laid in bed and finally gave in to watching Sex & the City: the movie. It was even more vapid and materialistic than I thought it would be. I couldn't help but wonder, Carrie Bradshaw-style, could this movie have been released after we've declared a recession and articles are citing cutbacks at luxury labels? Maybe men are like bound-to-be-outdated movies, after all.

Anyhow. The cold hit my office pretty hard. Today, my first full day back (between going home early, staying home late, and taking a disorienting nap in the Relaxation Room aka quiet room with a couch), I found this article:

Hot Drinks Help Fight Cold and Flu

The research was done by Cardiff University's Centre for the Common Cold.

Published in the December 2008 edition of the clinical journal Rhinology, the research compared the effects of a commercially produced cordial apple and blackcurrant drink either 'hot' or at room temperature in 30 volunteers with common cold symptoms.

The Centre's Director, Professor Ron Eccles, is urging people suffering from colds or flu to have a hot drink to help reduce their symptoms.

Professor Eccles said: "It is surprising that this is the first scientific research on the benefit of a hot drink for treating cold and flu symptoms."

Seriously? A whole center focused on the common cold and this is all they've come up with? Hey, Professor Eccles, maybe there's been no scientific research because benefits of hot drink seemed like common sense?

I'm drinking some Lemon Lift right now, and I got started on it before I even saw the scientific proof that it might make me feel better. Sadly, I've also seen scientific papers saying that homemade chicken soup is indeed good for your cold (and the soul) because it's made with love. Science said that. My mom, on her frequent calls to check in, kept telling me she wished she could make me some chicken soup. "I feel like I'm in second grade," I told her.

As a mark of my growing up, my boyfriend brought me carrot ginger soup instead, because I said no chunks and he really likes carrots. My contribution to the meal was to be some toasted French bread - until I noticed smoke emanating from toaster and my toast seriously on fire. It was a two alarm toaster oven fire. Having spent all afternoon unable to get out of bed, I got an adrenaline surge which allowed me to jump up and down and yell, "Marshall! My toast is on fire!"

He ran to my aid and demanded a fire extinguisher. I got it out from under the sink and handed it to him. Then he stood trying to figure out how to work the thing while the toast continued to flame. "Marshall, decisive action!" I yelled, cowering behind him. I've seen many a cockroach scurry away while he considers what to do with his shoe and I hide under a blanket.

Eventually the toast burned down, due to lack of oxygen in the toaster, and then Marshall blew it out. The toast looked like it had burned through a few layers of bread epidermis. We had survived.