The discordant chorus of coughs ricocheting between us, the sniffles and snorts and ear-blasting throat-clearings, are enough to wake the dead (or at least enough to chase the Llama-monster into safe retreat beneath the bed in the other room).
This is our Friday night: each of us curled at our respective end of the couch with box of Kleenex strategically placed between us, honey-ginger or peppermint tea forgotten at our elbows, and one last episode of Community playing so that we can at least say we didn't go to bed before ten o'clock.
It's a good thing the promise of house-guests this weekend has not come to pass.
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