I have a cold and all men out there knows what I am talking about! We try to be brave and show a good spirit but it is impossible to get out of bed. The wife just giggles at me and mumbles something about giving birth. But let me explain how it feels.

The brain feels three sizes too big and pushes hard to make room in the skull. There is however a jolly gang of workers banging away with sledgehammers, pickaxes and shovels while singing out loudly trying to reduce the size of my brain. They all have Hot Work permits since the temperature is now very high in the entire body. They move around in the head with a big old Steam Train on a poor track. You know like in the old days going cathunk, cathunk. The train blows the whistle on every lap around the head stopping with screaming breaks at the station between the eyes. As the foreman realizes that the brain size is not reducing fast enough he decides to use dynamite, no correction, he has been watching Myth Busters so when in doubt he will use C4! They all cheers after the explosion and since it was a good blast so lets do it again, and again!

The throat feels like a dessert but my nose is working hard to build up a flood to wet it. Unfortunately this flood streams out into my face instead and blocking any attempts to get air though the nostrils. This leaves a man gasping for air through the mouth instead with the result of sand dunes start to form in the pharynx. The water missing from my throat has now started to come out of the biggest organ in the body, the skin, rivers and rivers of sweat. This is hard to understand through the cooking and banging in the head as you lie there shivering from cold in your soaked bed. When the wife comes back from work you realize that the sand in your mouth now have turned into glue as you try to speak. She gives you that no pity look again before she heads out to the TV. She looks at a program where they strangle cats? Oh, it was American Idol.

When you try to get out of the bed you realize that the guys working in your muscles have gone to your brain to support the marry gang to reduce the brain. Resulting in you crawling on all four like a baby over the bedroom floor to get to the bathroom. Every step, if you can call crawling that, feels like somebody is shooting arrows into your body. On the bathroom floor you find out that a wet body that meets tiles is very slippery. The merry men in your head cheers and whistles as your head hits the floor thinking it was a C4 blast. If you manage to find your way back to the bed without getting lost in the closet you find yourself in front of Mount Everest. Trying to climb back into bed makes all the guys in your muscles go to their Union rep and complain. As they go on strike you fall asleep on the floor dreaming of demonstrations, screaming crows and rioting. As it is escalating with sirens sounding louder and louder the left and right side of your brain decides to start a civil war firing artillery at each other.

After a very long time, a few days, you start to recover and the merry men in your head finally managed to reduce your brain size to fit your thick skull. The muscle guys however demands vacation due to the overtime helping out the brain guys so your body still feels bruised. You stumble out to the kitchen just to find the To Do List from your wife!

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