Back-to-school week cold and no army of helpmeets to face the wicked germ. Ich bin eine Sickie.
Head spins. Cold medicine bad.
Cannot find things. Cannot. Think.
Lurching. About.
Snuffling.
I sneeze and I say, Gesundheit. To myself.
Myself says, What? You speak German?
Hallo? I say back. Hallo? Wie gehts?
Myself ignores me and asks:
Where is my Victorian fainting couch when I need it?
Where are my nice Ancient Egyptian houseboys with their palm fronds to urge air up my blocked nostrils?
Where is my aproned Frau Schmitt zum bringen mir zee Tea mit Rose Hippen und der Strrrrruuuuuuudel?
Where are my sweet perky 34Cs? I must have ordered them from my past at least three weeks ago. Some UPS guy won’t leave the back of his time-traveling UPS truck. Halloooo? Hast du meine Junge Booben, Herr UPS? Bitte?
Worse yet, what happened to my email? Alles! Gone! Keine Emailen! I cannot face technological glitches when my cold medicine makes me think AUF DEUTSCH and I CAN’T GET WARM!
Where is Mr. Darcy? I am so mad at Jane Austen.
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