I had a cold on the weekend. It was murder. Of course summer is murder anyway (ARE YOU HAVING FUN YET? NO WHY NOT) but summer colds are the worst: they combine all the most miserable elements of summer (OH MY GOD IT’S GORGEOUS OUT HERE LIKE ANGELS VOMITING SUNSHINE OH LOOK A KITTY) with the most dreadful aspects of being sick (the bleariness dear, and thin sweats, and gluey glaciers of mucous, and solid bouts of one’s tongue sticking to the roof of one’s mouth while definitely not breathing). At least the weather lent a hand and made it quite dark and raining for most of it. I got a day off, so to speak. I had a nap. I read a book about ghosts on a spaceship.
And instead of my usual musings on robot uprisings and vampire wars, I started to think about what months are worst for having a cold. And so I ranked them.
MONTHS OF THE YEAR FOR HAVING A COLD, FROM BEST TO WORST
12. February. Getting a cold in February is like getting left for dead in Mexico––nobody wants it to happen but nobody’s surprised when it does. Comes with the territory. The freezing, charmless, completely hideous and utterly irredeemable territory. Worst month of the year! A virus is just accent lighting.
11. October. I love Fall. And getting a cold in the Fall is God’s way of saying, Don’t get your hopes up, Punchy––whatever you may want, I may sweep away.
10. May. Spring. Birds. Love. A sense of expectation and even deliverance. Do piles of encrusted Kleenex go with this? Maybe, maybe not.
9. January. New Year’s is already morally bankrupt and about as likeable as people who “work” in real estate. Oh, did you start the new year with a cold? Who fucking cares!
8. March. Second worst month of the year. Little to recommend itself except perhaps some binge watching on HBO. Psychically, people are completely shell shocked. They probably wouldn’t notice if you walked around with your head on fire.
7. November. Winter gets a foot in the door, and his buddy Cold Season is waiting in the hall, silently passing gas. Also, this is the month where every so many years the Americans go to the polls and blow their brains out.
6. April. Easter is a thing, right? Jesus might sympathize with your cold. Or perhaps he (He?) would tell you that suffering is some kind of enlightenment. Were viruses collected for the Ark? Why was God always hiding behind burning bushes, anyway?
5. August. Ah, the ass end of summer. People are flaked out. Grown men are dressing like five year-olds. The creepy ones wear mirrored sun glasses. And nobody is washing their hands.
4. September. Wow, everybody did absolutely nothing all summer and now it’s a fucking shitshow of panic to get everything done all at once! I need this thing now now now! What do you mean you’re sick? How about getting with the program? Why don’t you jump on the team and come on in for the big win?
3. June. Summer’s here! At last! The promised land. Everyone’s mood is looking up! Except yours. Because you have a fucking cold. Smooth move, ex-lax.
2. December. Ah, to be sick at Christmas. Don’t ruin Christmas! It’s the most magical time of the year! Surely some eggnog will help with that congestion? No? How about loads of sweets? Come on, everyone’s here! At least come out and say hello to everyone! OH MY GOD YOU’RE RUINING CHRISTMAS AGAIN.
1. July. School’s out. Most people take their pathetic vacations in July! It’s the height of summer. Everything about July says shirtless and barbecue and bad outdoor music and people willing to sit in anything called a patio no matter how dirty and choked with exhaust. It matches December for its stupidity, but has the upper hand in terms of sheer belligerence. I mean, it wants to be stupid. It’s taking its stupidity out on the street. In front of Tim Horton’s. With its dog. Don’t worry, he’s friendly! What, you don’t feel good? You don’t like this music? I love Paint It Black, man.
And that’s it. A programming note: I’m taking a break from the Tinyletter business for summer, but will return sometime in mid-August. Also, I’ll be closing my online store for large slots of time, because I’m sick of Canada Post and it’s sick of me.
Be real, and don’t get a cold,
Draw things, paint things, write things, make things.