So, We Meet Again

My Dear Sinus Infection,

I see you have decided to rear your ugly head again. To be sure you are trying to take me down with you, and I shall fight you to the bitter end. Dr. Tichenor is a strong ally, and he is faithfully numbing my throat against your attacks. The Armory of Kleenex has been restocked, and we are prepared for the coming winter. I have ordered Ben-a-Dryl to lob another round of sleeping potion in your direction as well.

You may well have taken me down for the next couple of hours, but rest assured the afternoon victor shall be me and me alone. Rest for the wicked is only insofar as it is needed to gather my strength to fight against you some other day. (Well, later today, as the case may be.)

I shall dream of my moment to shine in the sun, because when I reawaken it WILL BE SUNNY, you hear me? But only because you made me miserable while it was the darkest of night.

I wish a thousand poxes upon your ... pox.

(Can one actually wish a pox upon a pox when the pox upon which one wishes a pox is not really a pox at all? Oh well, I've done it anyway.)

Pshaw.