This post is brought to you by a cold, Buckley's, menthol tissues, spicy soup, painful sneezes and squishmallows

Hi, I’m Renée, a finance and business journalist, writer and content strategist. The Budgette is a chill newsletter about single finances and is published twice a month to more than 2,000 subscribers. I prefer to write when I have something to say and it gives me time to speak to financial, legal and other experts. When I’m not here, I work on content strategy and execution for Canadian and U.S. publications and brands. If you want to work together, message me or you can find me on LinkedIn.

So I got a cold, my first one in three years. I, of course, immediately panicked and proceeded to stick covid swabs down my throat and up my nose five times in three days just to make sure it wasn’t covid.

Apart from feeling miserable, I feel fine? Like not covid-sick, though my dad did say I sounded horrible and proceeded to give me a mango. (This is very much a Caribbean and other places-that-have-mango-trees-parent thing.)

I ate the mango, proceeded to whine to my friends, and yelled at ‘Emily,’ the phisher who really wanted to make friends.