There are some colds that arrive gently, giving you time to lay in a supply of easy reads, a pint of something sinfully good and extra soft tissues...you have about three days to prepare the special fluffy pillows, warn folks that you'll be unavailable for a week, and you can lie back at last to wait it out. Not because you are dreadfully ill, but because we all need a bit of pampering now and then.
And then there is the kind that hurtles across the landscape like an over enthusiastic labrador retriever, and within a hour of that first sneeze you have gone back to bed, afflicted with chills and fever and skin that hurts to the touch. Your brain stops working, there aren't enough hours in the day to sleep in, and at certain key moments death seems desirable. On the plus side, after the first 24 hours, you suddenly realize that you are no longer in agony, the sun is shining, and by golly, there may be hope yet.