To each his own

I rarely get sick. Very sadly for myself though, I caught a cold from my delightful husband three days ago. I have been sniffling, snuffling, sneezing, groaning, and clutching snotty shnoz rags ever since. Also enjoying a very pleasant (not) burning sensation in the back of my throat during every moment of every day. So bad that it wakes me up at night when I accidently swallow in my sleep. I don't want to be a wussy and call in sick for work though, so I just keep going in and probably quite generously spreading my infection around.

Last night I was wrapped in a blanket on the couch, moaning from my pains, and Dave kindly offered to make me a sugary treat, as he ingeniously recognizes the cure-all nature of such offerings. I happily accepted, but didn't know what he would make because it was already 11 pm and I couldn't think of a thing we had.

Somehow, from the far and long-forgotten reaches of the pantry, he unearthed a boxed mix of organic chocolate cookies that I believe traveled to Oregon with me in my move from California. (And they had no visible expiration date, so who knows how long before said move I purchased them.)

But Dave whipped them right up and I happily gobbled down two of them, much to the chagrin of my throat but delight of my tongue. (In hindsight, I might have been just imagining that I loved them, since my nose was so stuffed up I might not have actually tasted a thing.) I praised them effusively though and Dave shoved one into his mouth with excitement.

"Bah!" he screamed before I knew what was happening. "Aaaaaah!!!" He quickly ran to the garbage and spit out every crumb and morsel with horrified disgust.

"What's wrong?!" I asked with genuine shock.

To which he articulately bellowed, "It tastes like a mixture of Play-Doh and crap!"