It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when the cold started coming on.

We had cleaned the house the weekend after Thanksgiving and kicked some dust in the air, so I hoped the scratch in my throat and sneezing the following Monday was simply the dust still settling.

Of course had I thought about it, I would have realized that if dust was still settling from the day before then perhaps I should take a pressure washer to the house.

Sadly, by Monday night I grew to realize that this was no allergic reaction to cleaning. This was the plague. I had a cold.

I’m not a desperate complainer when I get sick. Instead my mood sours to a point where people think I might just be tempted to conduct a Viking raid on a neighboring village.

Mostly, I just want to be left alone to endure my struggles and misery, drink hot fluids and sleep, but unfortunately Fate has looked unkindly on me this time around and delivered onto me this cold at the most inconvenient of times.

A two-week stretch that included laying out the sports tab JumpStart, editing, helping paginate and sending the January-February edition of Austin Living off to press and a whole host of other things that serve as constant reminders that so far, my late November and December stink.

Did I mention I was fighting with a computer as well? No? Well that’s important to mention. Right now I hate computers.

This conjunction of timing, this nexus if you will, is highly inconvenient for a variety of reasons, too numerous to count and on top of it all, the near constant snort of sniffing a leaking nose, coughing and sucking on medicinal lozenges that are just plain awful.

Seriously, it’s like these companies sit back and force an intern to go through testing just for the sole reason of making sure that your experience of being sick is as miserable as humanly possible.

They do the trick, but that’s even more of a slap in the face. Look here’s something that helps you heal, but tastes awful.

Which of course leads into food tasting just as terrible at worst, bland at best. Lately my coffee simply tastes like bitter hot water and the turkey sandwich I had while writing this was … something. I only know I was eating food because I could see it. Taste would not have proved any kind of point.

Sleeping is also another nifty trial. Ask yourself: Are you a deep-mouth breather or side-flipper?

The difference is of course obvious. Deep-mouth breathers lay on their backs, counting ceiling tiles while sounding like a 1967 Chevy dragged in from some old garage, trying to maintain after being started.

Side-flippers are those (I include me here) people that literally flip side to side, clearing one nostril in an attempt to fall asleep in between clearing and clogging.

It’s also here you are most likely to drool on the pillow because there is an aspect of mouth-breathing associated with this.

When you do wake up – all eight times during the night — your mouth is dry, tacky and tastes as if you’ve been chewing on a sock all night.

So maybe you get up, tired of the suffering and think about watching TV. This is the absent 10th ring of Hell from “Dante’s Inferno,” that never gets mentioned.

Trust me, it’s there.

“Virgil extended his staff to the pit, snow falling from Satan’s prison above from where we escaped. And behold, did I see, thousands of wailing souls, gnashing their teeth as they settle ultimately on the final act of their suffering — infomercials.”

“Is this what I, what all souls, can finally expect?” I asked “To wail to the deepest dark, watching only ‘Golden Girls?’”

My guide cast upon me a most unsettling look of sadness, “Why, you getting a cold?”

See, truth.

Late night TV is the worst. You are forced to either watch shows from 70s and 80s, TV evangelists trying to part you from your money, or people selling you horrible-looking things that supposedly will make your life better.

The fact is, the common cold is common suffering we all have to face, so instead of whining, just accept all that comes with it and get better. Drink your juice, swallow your pills and settle in for “The Golden Girls.”

I love Sophia.