Cay Mayo writes

Finally the last little nagging-tickle-in-throat cough from the spring cold has departed. Spring has indeed arrived inside our bodies as it has outside.

We’re free of the muscus-maker.

Well, maybe.

Step back one day: We’re standing in line at the grocery store when my nice, clear, unplugged nose picks up the familiar scent of lemon-coated medicine in cough drop form. Casually pulling up my collar to cover my nose and mouth, I glance around, hunting for the culprit. Then, to my horror, the cashier in front of me softly clears her throat—sending another sickly sweet cloud my way while she man-handles our purchases with virus-carrying, germ-bagging hands.

Oh, crap!

My first instinct was to duck and run but I stood my ground and fought like a princess-warrior against both it and my second instinct, which was to grab the plastic bag out of her hands, pull it down over her germ-spewing face and shove her out the door, telling her to go home and rest. Alone. Out of the public.

But I didn’t do that either.

Instead I put on my pleasant little old lady persona and said, “Oh dear, you have a cold. Shouldn’t you be at home with your head down and your feet up?”

“Can’t. Anyway, it’s my second one this spring.” She croaks, sucking like a demon. “In between I had strep throat.”

I look over at Man-wonder. He’s looking back at me (from a safer distance) with one eyebrow raised. I wonder if I cave and  make a dash for the door, leaving him to handle things—would he? His eyes narrow. He shakes his head.

Sometimes being together for a long time can be a pain; too much mind reading going on. I sigh.

He’s right. If I ask him to take over with germzilla he’s more likely to end up with another cold and to be honest, it’s not worth it—who’s his nurse going to be since I’ve about used up my this-year’s-supply-of-nice already? Things could get sad in an ugly way fast.

And then, that’s when it hit me—what if this rampant virus-spewing epidemic of forced sharing is part of our evolution? Maybe, since the majority of our population is aging, there isn’t going to be enough of the sturdy-studly generation to care for all of us. So maybe, just maybe, this is natural selection at work.

Hmmmm. . . . oh god, is that a germ I feel climbing up my nostril?