The Cold to End All Colds

So before I get started with my own blog, I just wanted to mention that Andrea’s article this week made me think of a song from one of the most offensive musicals I know, Avenue Q. Here’s the link: Between what Andrea has written and what the puppets (yes, puppets) are singing about, I’d say the best advice is to cherish your time in school!

Anyway, the past week has probably been one of my worst all year. I spent the previous weekend, once again, livin’ it up in Toronto with Liz and Co., but this time for a much steeper price than that of train tickets and food and partying. Instead of bringing back strange and wacky clothes obtained from sketchy basement thrift stores on Queen Street (Powder blue dress shirt from the disco era—I kid you not. Greatest find ever!), this time I came home with an absolutely brutal cold. It was totally worth it, though.

To most of you, a cold may not seem like the worst thing ever. You might even have a cold yourself right now. But let me tell you this: I compared my cold to that of my good friend’s in Nova Scotia, and this is what we came up with as our arguments for who had it worse. I began by stating that I had both a cold and four jobs. She then retaliated with a cold, four exams and a job (that—Laura, if you are reading this—only involves sorting CDs. Big deal.). But then I put forward the ultimate argument for why my cold was the worst. If you know me well, this will put everything in context: I was so sick, I didn’t even care what my hair looked like. Strange argument from a guy, I know, but I really like my hair.

Anyway, the mother of all colds decided to join me at the worst time, too. I work in one of the smaller departments of my store, and we are already pretty heavily scheduled (at least those of us who can work during weekdays). Throw in the fact that for two weeks, the senior member of my department is on vacation in Spain (lucky him) and his full-time hours need to be split up between the rest of the employees who can work days (that’s me and one other employee), and you have a recipe for the most tired, sore, frustrated, sick Fraser ever.

Oh (in the words of Uncle. Jackie Chan Adventures, anyone?), one more thing: throw in an in-store trade-in event during this period, and you have Fraser going slightly insane. Good times.

Because of the way my week panned out, I never really got the chance to stop and get inspired, so all I really have is this rant. Hopefully it made you smile, if even just a bit.

Anyway, I know I’m definitely getting better now. The true indicator of my health, however, is not how stuffed up I am or how often I am coughing. No, instead I know I’m improving when I can once again sing along to the radio without my throat attacking me. It may be the worst singing ever, but it’s an improvement. I’m definitely going to pull through.

To find out whether I survive the rest of the week, you can follow me on Twitter:

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