Dear Head Cold,
I was reading a blog recently that talked about being able to take constructive criticism and the difference between constructive and destructive criticism. http://themattwalshblog.com/2014/02/18/learn-how-to-take-criticism-or-be-prepared-to-fail-at-life/ Head cold, I immediately thought of you.
Since you have taken up residence in my head, I have noticed a bit of slacking off on your part. Now I’m not saying that you’re doing a bad job as far as head colds go, but frankly, the Head Cold of 2009 was head and shoulders (get it?) above you. It had all the elements of the Perfect Illness. Fever, chills, cough, clogged passageways. Even the phlegm was of a consistency that wowed the doctors.
Current head cold (Note the lack of capitalization. You have to earn it, and you simply haven’t.), to put it bluntly, I can still breathe through one nostril. Now, I’m not calling you a failure; I hope you understand that. I know you’re trying, but in the interest of constructive criticism, your actions fail. Granted, the stuffiness in the nostril switches from left to right at different times, but the Head Cold of 2009 did not play around like that. My nostrils were blocked solid in a mucous coup d’état that lasted for ten days and nights. Remember the Alamo? The French Revolution? Yeah, it was like that. No escape.
Nights were torture. I was propped up by so many pillows that I can’t even say I was lying in bed. The aches and pains that kept me awake at night made sure that I was thinking about the exquisiteness of This Head Cold of 2009. Phlegm, sneezes, coughs, aches, pains, stomach cramps all came together in a perfect alignment like the stars in the night sky, which I stared at a lot out the bedroom window since I couldn’t sleep anyway. This Head Cold did not play around. Add to the fact that I was going to be traveling by airplane soon, and a simple head cold became the Perfect Storm of Head Colds. If there were prizes for head colds, the Head Cold of 2009 would have swept the awards in a gauzy pink swan dress that would have made Bjork jealous.
You, on the other hand, head cold of 2014, are a lazy, no-account pretender (Oops! A little bit of destructive criticism slipped in there.) that has chosen to play games in my head. It’s time for you to either step it up or step off. Either lay me out flat in an epic manner that would make the parting of the Red Sea look like a scene from a travelogue or release me from your grip and let me move on with my life without your hindrance. Your choice, head cold.
It’s for your own good that I say this to you. If you’re convinced that I need to be sick, then stand by your convictions and show me what you’ve got. Otherwise, it’s time for you to blow, if you know what I mean. You will never be able to match the Head Cold of 2009, and I have better things to do with my time than honk my hooter and humidify my house just because you can’t figure out what you want to do.
I won in 2009 against the worst cold I’ve ever had in my life, and that’s nothing to sneeze at. I will win in 2014, so let me constructively say to you, to save us both some time and tissues, give up now. As long as I have hand sanitizer and chicken noodle soup, you can’t win. Speaking of chicken noodle soup, I’m off to have lunch. See? You haven’t even killed my appetite. I’m so getting over you.
The Head Honcho