I’m sick as a dog still, whatever that means (and I mean: If we’re going to try to pick phrasing that makes sense, dogs are the pure things in this world. I’m sick as a human). It started as a tickle in the back of my throat. Twenty-four hours later, said tickle turned into a full-blown cold—I’m talking sore throat, constant coughing, wooziness, stuffiness, the works—that has yet to go away. I feel like I’ve been in a daze since Friday, you guys, and no amount of green tea or ACV shots have flushed this out of my system. But I’m not writing to complain about a common cold (though I’m annoyed that I can’t give my new Diptyque Vanille a sniff). This cold is actually a pretty good thing. Let me explain. I’m not a masochist (at least not about this). Being sick sucks, but in an age where we take everything for granted, it’s good to be reminded that you’re human—and that because you’re human, your health is wealth. Self-care is survival. When you pretend you’re superhuman, when you go go go, when you stay up late to work and wake up even earlier to do more, be more, be better, you wear yourself thin.…