How Do You Spell The Sound of a Cough?

Onomonopea fails us, alas, as ever cough has a different sound, kind of like snow flakes. If we hooked up advanced electronic wave particle measuring tools, we could probably identify a cough like a fingerprint. Only thing is, each person has a large variety, perhaps infinite variety of coughs (depending on the advancement of the measuring equipment, of cough... I mean, of course, of course). Or is it onomatopoeia. Of cough it is, but you say nomato and I say nomato and let's call the whole thing off and say we didn't.

Thank goodness I have seven hundred and sixty two rolls of paper towels in the house since I have a running faucet where my nose used to be and tissues are simply insufficient in soaking up the flow that could fill a few swimming pools in an hour. Luckily, it's too cold outside for a swim (about 38 degrees or so) so we don't have to concern ourselves with the proper chlorine ration to mate the snot-filled pool safe for people and other living things. I know, who'd want to, but seriously I could do a TV commercial for paper towel absorbency or something. Ok, so I exaggerate, I only have a dozen or so paper towel rolls left.

The shortage of cough drops is more concerning. I bought the candy-like Luden's cherry, then bag of dollar store menthol drops and dollar store vitamin C drops. I have one vitamin C drop left. After that, if I start hacking, I'll need to go out. Terribly disrupting and anti-getting well situation. I left the bags in the work car and only had those I was keeping in my pocket when I got back here last night. They are not as effective as the more expensive stuff (and I believe I have some somewhere in boxes, but I am too sick to search at the moment. The brief entries are depressingly full of my poor-me head cold blues if you are interested... care? What a novel idea, aye?

I showered as well as I can here. Hot is not hot when living like a pauper refugee. Eb wants to retire by the time he is 50 so he apparently balks at the idea of spending a penning of his own money on his mortgage, utilities, internet, or anything else that is paid forty my rent. He complained about a high electric bill yesterday as if that explained why the thermostat has been set for 60 degrees most of the time this past week (temperatures outside have been below freezing a couple of nights... I had to scrap frozen frost off the windshields of two cars... I do not miss northern winters at all... especially since I am sick with head cold). Hearing me hacking and noticing I was sick, he actually put the thermostat on 69 last night. He really does have a good heart, he's just as cheap as anyone I've ever met.

Naturally the water temperature of the hot water heater is too low to sanitize clothes and turning on all hot and no cold makes for a warm-to-hot shower for about four minutes, not enough heat or time to heat-therapy a cold out of a body, no less soothe aching muscles or feel clean like I used to. He takes baths and I clean with bleach before I use any part of the bathroom. This morning I used one of my towels to wash the floor around the toilet because last night I threw away a pair of socks and underwear because the underwear touched the floor (hey, I had to go and didn't have time to do any more than spray the seat) and the socks absorbed pee from a puddle that was on the floor.

There was a time, as a child, when I would not walk into the space of someone who did not have a healthy awareness and respect for germs. I was not a Sheldon Cooper or any sort of scene-maker, I simple quietly avoided such environments and moved along quickly to somewhere else if I inadvertently stepped into one. Over the years I have learned to compromise some, but this is the most ever. I was actually cleaner when I was homeless. Since leaving the living space I shared with Jackson, I've gotten progressively more tolerant of germ-ridden environments and that is probably why I have the skin issues and more infections than I've ever had in this lifetime. So if I sing someone save my life tonight, it is ore literal and real than ever before.

I know, nobody is responsible for me and nobody cares enough to "save" me and nobody should have to. So why have I seen so many people on the street cared for, nurtured, and "saved"? I know that doesn't happen to me because I repel people who try to "care for" me because, though they mean well in most cases, they are not as aware of cleanliness, healthiness, or my needs as I am so they fail to satisfy me. That's probably why nobody even tries anymore. So why do I keep wishing and hoping somebody would?

Yeah, the sicker-than-ever head-cold nose-dripping cough cough coughing blues.

I wonder if I have a fever.

Narf :)