Today I have a cold. Springtime is very annoying, because I am allergic to practically everything, and despite a stack of allergy and asthma medicine, I can walk around for weeks feeling like I am coming down with something, except without the happy thought that I will eventually get well again. However, yesterday, despite largely goofing off and doing not much all weekend, I felt really crummy and finally realized that I ought to take my temperature. Presto! I had a fever! That explained a whole lot.
Today, I have that weird scooped out feeling where your head is some sort of escaping helium balloon that is very far away from your body and trying to work is utterly pointless because all the words in front of you are just wiggling squiggles and you cannot tell if the student writing genuinely makes no sense, or if it is just you. (If you are still expecting my slice to be somewhat coherent today: you have been warned!)
Today, I think of the spring cold as another manifestation of the last gasp of winter. Reading slices from all over the country and talking to my online colleagues, who are also all over the country, I know that even with spring springing to life tomorrow, people are still being hit with late snow, and deep snow, and unseasonable snow, etc., etc. I always consider the first week of warm sunny days in spring as the unofficial end of cold and flu season, and heave a sigh of relief (the depths of which can only be achieved by teachers and parents who are sneezed and sniffled on all winter) that finally the germs will be gone and we might get through a few months of pink-cheeked health – instead of green-tinged, red-cheeked feverish ill health.
Today, though, like winter, the germs are having one last gasp.