Really, this is getting quite old. Since 1998, I have held an unbroken record at holiday time. In this case, I’d just as soon give the title away.

Every year, around this time, my ears begin to clog and my lymph nodes swell. Then comes the strangely dry, hot throat, shortly to be followed by a pounding headache and stuffy nose. The piece de resistance is, of course, the arrival of the cough.

My husband will tell you my coughs are a true work of genius, not to be ignored.

I start out barking like a circus seal. All I am missing is a ball to balance on the tip of my (reddened) nose.

Said cough then progresses to a congested gargle that erupts into an Indian war whoop (tell me, do people still get whooping cough these days?), ending in a strangled, retching cry. Just call me Typhoid Angie.

There’s one thing you’ve got to give me credit for: when I get sick, I get really sick, really fast. (If you’re gonna go, go all out, I always say.)

My Ginger cat, bless her moth-eaten old soul, still clings to my side throughout this latest unpleasantness. (This is due purely to the fact Ginger is totally deaf and perhaps, a bit short sighted. I suppose I could implode on the spot and old ‘Ging’ wouldn’t turn a single one of her few remaining hairs.)

So here I sit, pasty-faced, stumbling and sniffling through this column on Sunday evening. My body aches and my hair is frowsy beyond belief.

I can only hope by Wednesday I am feeling somewhat human again. Then, perhaps, someone other than one ancient, hard-of-hearing cat will once more choose the pleasure of my company.

In the meantime, it’s just me, Ginger and a big box of Kleenex.

Send your contributions by e-mail to

angie.long@greenvilleadvocate.com, or stop in and leave your information at our Hickory St. office Monday through Friday between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m.

Just mark it "Attn: Angie" and include name, address and contact number. Season's greetings, y'all!