I’ve been whining about winter since the first snow flake as fallen, and half of my readers I’m sure are looking forward to spring not only because heating bills will be lower and the feeling will begin to creep back into their extremities, but also because I’ll shut up about it already.
The one thing DO have to be thankful for this winter, is that for some reason, I’ve skipped getting sick. Like…at all. Historically, I’m on tap for at least one good chest/head cold that leaves a wracking cough for about a week or two. This year? Not a sniffle.
If you’re a superstitious individual, you might be thinking that I’m on the verge of jinxing myself.
At first I was wondering if maybe I had done something that made me superhuman. Perhaps some dietary change to include the magic bullet for immune boosting? Then I remembered that just the other night I ate a pint of chocolate ice cream, and ruled that possibility out.
Then it hit me- It isn’t that I’ve been healthier…no, not at all.
It’s that its been too freakin cold for any viruses or germs to survive outside of a human host long enough to be transferred to another human being.
When an outdoor sneeze transforms to gentle snowflakes, or a running nose changes from one stage of matter to another, even the germ-infested kindergarten that The Narrator gets packed off to every day is effectively quarantined by the walks to and from the bus. Germs are being killed off by the extreme weather, and I feel like a million bucks.
Now go away.