I was recently slapped across the face by a sudden cold. Its power exploded after a an eight hour shift serving vanilla lattes to a mass of late thirties mothers who married up just out of college (taste the bitter). The night before I had to open the cafe I was so disenchanted by the smell of espresso and tears that I resolved the best solution was to go to a bar down at the marina where 40 year olds sing Lady Gaga karaoke. 

The hint of the cold was only a foul, mucus, throat clearing taste at the back of my throat.