I don’t take being under the weather well. And something about having a cold on a tropical island seems wildly incongruous in an entirely stupid kind of way.
It makes me want to write told-you-so letters to all the old women who used to warn me that colds and flu bugs resulted from chilly weather and drafts. Pretty sure I haven’t felt temps cooler than 79F since last July, during a 24-hour layover in Japan. Guam isn’t cold, it doesn’t have cold, and the only drafts are warm, humid-air ones. Therefore I should not have a cold.
I am sick and miserable. Sick enough that right now I’m as attached to my box of Kleenex as I normally am to my cell phone. Miserable because it’s muggy and Guam-y outside AND inside because my power is out. It’s 11:30 p.m., and I’ve sought refuge in my least favorite fast-food joint to drink bottled water, allow my sweat-soaked shirt to dry out, and wait for the battery on my longsuffering MacBook Air to die before heading back home to see if the Guam Power Authority has managed to work their magic.
Sickness is one thing. Sickness and no aircon is another thing entirely.