OF A GOLDEN AGE

Today was my second sick day from work. I can’t remember the last time I took two days off for sickness and it is not something I enjoy, but bringing contagions to work while I’m too feverish and phlegmy to work anyway? Well, that’s not really worth it for anyone.

My across-the-hall neighbor Ray and I were exchanging ailment stories (my cold vs. his upcoming exploratory knee surgery = clear winner?) and he said, “You know what would make your cold go away real fast? A little bit of tequila.” He gestured with his forefinger and thumb.

I said I’d give it some thought.

Today at 7-11 on my way back from an emergency food-and-medicine run, I brought an enormous fountain Diet Coke to the counter. While we exchanged pleasantries, the checker said, “You sound real bad.” I laughed and then coughed. “Yeah, I have a cold,” I said. “Diet Coke’s probably not the best cure.”

“You should drink a little bit of tequila,” the checker said.

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