If you're old enough, you'll remember when aspirin used to come in glass bottles. And inside each glass bottle, right at the top, with a wad of cotton wool. I guess they put that in there to stop the pills rattling around, getting broken in transit or somesuch. I always wondered about the person who used to put those wads of cotton wool into aspirin bottles. What was their life like? Was their job a metaphor for their life? Did they like to keep things and people safe? Or were they softly numbed to life's inequities, thanks to years of contact with aspirin. Whoever that person was, I hope they'd found gainful employment since aspirin stopped being sold in bottles.
Right now, the inside of my head feels like it's stuffed with cotton wool. Fuzzy, muddled, not hearing that well. Got a sore, dry throat, my noses keeps running and I'm taking all manner of remedies to stop my malady getting worse. Right now, I can't afford to be sick. I've no shortage of work to do, and from tomorrow night I'll be appearing in three performances of the Neil Simon play Jake's Women. That requires me to be on stage for at least two hours, remembering every word of a hundred play script and playing my part to the best of my abilities. So getting a head cold? Not on my To Do list. Feck it.