It was well past bedtime when I noticed.

It wasn’t exactly an itch, exactly, but there was something off about the way my throat seemed to stick a little when I swallowed. I called it right away; maybe I’m starting a cold.

It was late, though, I thought, as I hauled myself up from the couch, found my slippers and put them on so I could shuffle, feet protected, through a list of settling-down-for-the-night chores.

Snap off lights, lock doors, might as well leave the dishes until morning.

Sleep came, but it wasn’t enduring. The soreness in my throat was joined by congestion and some low-level aches and pains. It felt better to sit upright, even though my eyelids drooped.

Sleeping in a precarious position, I suspected, would greet me in the morning as I had been in a minor collision.........

© The Saratogian