I have a cold

I have a cold. What I purchased to fix the cold is pictured above. I have no idea why these cold caplets bear the Mark of the Beast; they're not especially effective (as one would expect from a cold medicine recipe obtained by selling one's soul to the devil), nor do they take you on some wild hallucinogenic trip, a la Saturday Night Live's "Ride the Snake" weight-loss program.

Nevertheless, I have a cold and am taking them. They work okay.

Being sick is odd. It puts you in some sort of reverse-telescoped state, where all that exists is the moment you are currently in. I feel as if I've always been—and always will be—sick.

Which of course is ridiculous, and really I don't feel all that terrible. I just feel, as they say, "under the weather."

But the reverse-telescoped sick state is odd not only because of the way it makes you feel while you're inside it, but also because when you come out of it, it really feels like a rebirth, like emerging from a chrysalis, stronger, better, and cleaner. Coffee and cigarettes taste better; the air smells crisper ('specially in fall); you feel more alive to everything going on around you.

Which is all to say that, while I of course would rather not be sick in the first place, coming out of it ain't half bad.