*coff* *coff* COFFCOFFCOFFCOFFCOFF

That's what I've been doing for the past few days while heroically carrying on with my life, putting dishes in the dishwasher, putting dirty clothes in the dishwasher, putting a stack of library books into the dishwasher and then going to the public library to see if my laundry was ready to fold.

Meelyn finally said, "You have got to go to the doctor. I have never heard anyone cough as much as you're coughing. And you just put a jar of mayonnaise in the storage ottoman in the living room and said, 'Hey, who turned the refrigerator on its side?'"

"I'm fine," I rasped, holding onto the Christmas tree to keep from falling over. "Just a little cold, that's all. I'm great. Just dandy."

Aisling came into the room carrying a history textbook and a mug of hot chocolate. "Hey, I like those earrings!" I said brightly, nodding at the items in her hands. Aisling glanced at Meelyn.

"Do we have the number of the doctor's office on speed dial?" she asked her sister.

So today I went and came out with some prednisilone, some of those groovy little cough-curing pearls and a Z-pack. I discovered that I was narrowly balanced right on the edge of walking pneumonia AGAIN and that I had a fever, body aches and a really sore throat to go along with my juicy lungs. Plus body aches from coughing so much. And a strong, strong tendency to feel very sorry for myself.

Doesn't it always seem that sickness lurks in the shadows, waiting for the near approach of Christmas before it leaps on you or the kids with a painful bounce and a chortled "HA HA HAAAA"? If I thought back and counted up, I bet the Christmases when one or several of us were sick would outnumber the ones where everyone was well with a significant margin. Hopefully, I'll have this behind me a week from now and Christmas 2010 will be added to the All Are Well column.