Hack. Hack. Sniffle. Sniffle.

I have a cold. Blech.

Stages of the aforementioned cold:

Stage 1: Wednesday night I went to bed with a slight scratchy throat. I attempted to nip it in the bud by making a Neocitran. Unfortunately all we had available was the apple flavoured Neocitran that my Dad bought. My ridiculous father did not realize when he made the purchase that instead of a deliciously soothing lemon drink, the apple flavour tastes like warm, watered down, apple juice with an asprin crushed in it.

Stage 2: On Thursday morning the scratchiness in my throat had increased. I went to work (no need to worry about spreading germs around, guess where I got the cold?). Anyway my symptoms were such that nobody noticed I was sick. By the time to my fiancé's house, however, I was into stage three. (Adam rarely gets my colds. He's got some kind of Jen immunity).

Stage 3: Sneezing. Stuffiness. Never-ending running nose. I went to work again (it's only training, not as if I have to DO anything). This time my symptoms were very obvious. I drank a billion cups of tea (I brought the lemon from home) and even if I hadn't I still would've gone to the washroom every three seconds to blow the mini-waterfall that was my nose. Everyone was all "there, there, you poor sick girl."

Stage 4: Saturday and Sunday. No work. My nose is still stuffed up but not running. The worst is my throat. I have this hacking cough and my vocal cords have become useless. My voice ranges anywhere from "You sound funny" to "You need an interpreter". If my voice is still like this tommorrow I will not be able to go to work. On Monday my fellow trainees and I are scheduled to go on the phones and talk to real Americans for the first time. Any other job and I would rely on my winning smile. Calling in sick the first day of real work is not going to look great. There goes my dream of being promoted to head weasel.

In other news: My Dad is convinced that our across-the-street neighbour is responsible for the egging (see previous entry). My Dad's scenario is this: neighbour doesn't like us parking in front of his house. In the middle of the night he eggs the car, and then calls the cops on us. This, in my Dad's opinion, is the only explanation for getting egged and ticketed in the same night. I find it difficult to believe that an adult would do this, but I must admit the logic is sound (especially knowing my accross-the-street neighbour). Maybe I should go cough on his car. :)