An American in Provence

It's a Monday morning, end of blustery November. I am standing at the Metro station, mouth slightly open to facilitate breathing, looking a little rumpled and dazed with an expression of "What am I doing out of bed?" and "How did I get here? I don't remember walking here!" Clothed, but in the way that says "Hey, where did my pajamas go?!"
Yep, that time of the year again, Cold Season. This time, I blame Alain for starting it. Usually, I am the one that gives it to him, so I suppose it is only fair. I suppose I could try to not catch it, but I tend to treat this concept with a certain fatalistic mentality- we are living in the same house, sleeping in the same bed, and eating off the same plates. Not usually at the same time mind you, but it does happen that glasses of water get mixed up and so forth. The only way to conceivably NOT catch it would be to move out for a week, but where would I go? All of his immediate family members have the same cold, and it wouldn't be taken too well if I asked to move in with one of his friends.
One thing that is good about living here is that I seem to get less colds than when I was living in Virginia. Of course, that could have been partly due to living in the Barracks with 1300 other college kids.
The French, when faced with a common cold, go to the doctor to get a prescription for ANYTHING, whether or not it will help. Americans seem to like to take a tough guy attitude- "Yeah, I may have a cold but I am here at work making all the rest of you sick and showing how committed I am to my job. Aren't you impressed by my commitment (cough cough cough)?"
I suggested to Alain that we could switch noses, he didn't seem to think that would work. What about this in sickness and in health stuff? Besides, we would look funny with each other's nose.
(wow, just did that on photoshop. Don't want to embarrass myself by posting it on here though).
So I leave you with this cartoon.

Oh, and for anyone wondering WHY I was out of bed- Christmas shopping bien sûr.