I know this is supposed to be a blog on writing and books, but I'm a writer, and if I get sick, I can't write, so a bad cold ought to be a writing topic, right? And since my husband and I are both feeling wretched, a little rant is perfectly justified.
Once upon a time, I could go to the drugstore and pick up 12-hour Contacs and not even notice I had a cold. Not any more. Medicine had taken giant leaps backwards when it comes to the common cold. And they disguise the fact behind all the multiple similar labels and incomprehensible ingredients. I assume we have meth heads to thank for some of that, but not for the intentional mislabeling.
Did you know that Vicks Nighttime Cold and Flu has no decongestant? Go look at the label. The decongestant kind has to be purchased from the pharmacist, and our drugstore doesn't carry it. What is the point of a cold medicine if it doesn't stop runny noses, I ask you?
So now we have to buy one pill for a decongestant (Sudafed and it's copies), one pill for pain, one fake Benadryl if you want to sleep, and something else if you have a cough. At approximately $16 a box and with the pills only lasting four hours, who can afford a cold? I can't even sleep long enough to justify four boxes of pills!
So as long as I'm sitting here with my head too stuffed to think, I need good reading material. I've galloped through Terry Pratchett's Dodger, a historical fantasy set in the sewers of Victorian London with Charles Dickens as a major character. I've lapped up Darynda Jones's Third Grave Dead Ahead-- her humor is outrageous and who can resist a sarcastic grim reaper attracted to the son of Satan, who just happens to be in prison? What else do you suggest I read? Downloading ebooks is too danged easy, like dangling chocolates in reach of a starving person.
And for those who didn't get the Word Wench newsletter...Trouble With Air and Magic is in several on-line stores already. Be a friend and stop by with a kind word or like if you have a chance to read it.
The Taunting Sky
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