(You will find the word “afghans” below; the computer wanted me to capitalize it, as in the plural of a person from Afghanistan. That would have been bad, although I have to grin envisioning it.)

Last week I told my grandson that I thought I had been approached by his cold virus. Having attained a certain age and an interactive relationship with viruses, I reported that I believed his cold virus had sensed dormant antibodies in me and had decided to make a quick departure after fielding a couple of sneezes.

Well, I was wrong. I would say the virus went home and got some gang members to come over and put me in my place. Yes, the sinus pain, the dripping nose, the sensation of a tight chest, not to mention the dullness of mind and flagging of muscles set up camp in me, AmeliaJake. It didn’t pay any attention to the “NOT IN MY BACKYARD” signs I had erected.

It was a slow week-end, one spent with kleenex twisted and stuck up my nose to allow me to walk around without leaving a trail. I suppose, though, discarded kleenex could be regarded as another version of a “Paper Trail.” When I was younger, we used to take a paper grocery bag and fold it over as a portable used tissue receptacle. (Most stores have gone to plastic and it just doesn’t seem to work as well.)

Yesterday, I awoke and welcomed the fact that I could take a nice deep breath and my coughing was no longer a hollow honk, but – as the medical community says – a productive churning of loose gravel. I felt better. I had to take my car for service and it was a long appointment, but I was happy, sitting there in a well-appointed waiting area, reading my Kindle.

I came home, stopped at a store, sat down to look through some papers and later found myself waking up tipped over on some afghans and thinking, “Wow, what happened to the clock?” HA! I felt not bad, but like a limp rag. I decided to make myself more comfortable on the afghan pile and turned on a documentary and later had to rewind it to the part where I had fallen asleep again.

This is all so boring for jet-setting people and pretty boring for me too. However, I’ll wager I’m not the only one who’s been on this trip.