MICKI BARE Advertisement

Even columnists catch a bug every now and again, probably because we, too, shop in grocery stores and malls among crowds of infected people. Everywhere one turns in January, there is a drippy nose, a coughing or sneezing mouth, red eyes or a chilled body bundled against the harsh temperatures of the department store.

Armed with symptoms like headache, dizziness, stomach problems, fever and congestion, I headed out to visit my doctor. In no time I had a note instructing me not to work for a day or two, and a prescription for a blue pill that I was to take three times a day.

I never ingest a pill without reading all the instructions, interactions and side effects. Upon review, nothing seemed all that dangerous about my medication. The "normal" side effects included headache, dizziness, stomach problems, fever and congestion. That wouldn't be too bad. Though the list sounded awfully familiar.

It took me a couple of hours, but I finally remembered where I'd heard that list of side effects before. They were my symptoms. Confusion settled in as I wondered how I would know if the pill was working.

My brain began to throb at the thought, so I decided to trust those with the medical degrees, brew some tea with lemon and honey, and hang out in my bed with the remote. Normally, I take my tea straight, but when I'm not feeling well, my mother's recipe for keeping a sick person hydrated always hits the spot. One sip and it was like Mom was in the vicinity, watching over her ailing child.

Of course, she was really in South Carolina attending her line dancing class with her girlfriends.

There wasn't much on television, but I was too swimmy-headed to read my new book. I kept flipping through the channels as if by not stopping, I could conjure up a good movie or entertaining show. What finally caught my attention was an infomercial.

It was one of those "too good to be true" deals that worked like magic. It came with all sorts of "free" accessories if one called in the next 10 minutes.

Testimony after testimony claimed that one couldn't go wrong with a purchase and that it made a fabulous gift for friends and family. Demonstration after demonstration proved the effectiveness of the product. Viewers were strongly encouraged to take advantage of this $30 value for only two easy payments of $19.95.

It took me a couple of hours, and I think I woke Hubby when I sat straight up in bed and flipped on the light. A $30 value for only two easy payments of $19.95? Were they kidding? Did I hear it correctly? I shook Hubby to make sure I had his attention before asking him, "Does that even make sense?"

"No, honey, it doesn't make sense. Now get some rest so you can get better."

I turned off the light and rested my foggy head on the pillow. I turned on the television, making sure the sound was really low so as not to disturb Hubby again, and flipped through the infomercials. Maybe I heard it wrong.

After flipping through the channels for 10 minutes, I was able to conjure up the same infomercial. I patiently waited to hear how much the loud guy with the beard was asking for the product, along with all the free accessories plus shipping and handling. Finally it was announced, "A $30 value for only two easy payments of $19.95!"

Clearly, this product was being marketed toward mathematically impaired sick people who were taking blue pills and staying home from work for a day or two. Satisfied that I hadn't hallucinated -- especially since hallucinations weren't on my list of side effects -- I flipped through the channels a little while longer.

That was when I stumbled upon the greatest invention ever to hit the infomercial circuit. It was a lightweight floor steamer that uses only water, which means no harsh chemicals are needed to clean linoleum, tile, sealed hardwood or laminate.

What a great product. Surely it would also work for tubs and windows -- though the people doing the demonstrations never showed those particular product applications. Unfortunately, it was too dark to find the phone. I also had no idea where my purse, which contained my credit card, happened to be at the moment.

Micki Bare is a columnist for the Arkansas News Bureau and the Courier-Tribune in Asheboro, N.C., and author of the book, "Relative Expressions." She lives in Asheboro with her husband and three children. Her e-mail address is mickibare@inspiredscribe.com.