Having a Cold on the Homestead: There Are No Sick Days, Only More Tissues

Catching a cold on the homestead is a special kind of betrayal. Not by your body—that’s expected.
But by the idea that maybe, just maybe, you could rest.

Because the animals did not get the memo.
They do not care that your head feels like it’s stuffed with hay.

They do not care that you’re operating on one nostril and pure spite.
Chores must be done!

I woke up optimistic. I thought, “It’s just a sniffle. I’ll power through.”
Reader, this was a lie.

By the time I made it outside, I was wrapped in three layers, coughing like I’d stuck my head in the hay loft, and already regretting my earlier confidence.

The chickens stared at me like I was late for a meeting they scheduled.
The goats screamed like they hadn’t been fed in weeks (it had been eight hours).
The water buckets somehow weighed 400 pounds more than usual.

Every chore took twice as long because I had to stop and:

Blow my nose

Find the tissue I just had
Realize it disintegrated in my pocket (ew, I know)

Pause to mentally prepare myself for the next task

You don’t realize how much you rely on breathing through your nose until it stops working and you’re hauling feed while gasping like a fish.
Let’s talk about coughing while doing chores.

There is nothing more humbling than bending over to scoop grain and being hit with a coughing fit so violent you have to pause—hands on knees—staring into the dirt like it owes you money.

The animals, of course,  watched…Judging.
Silently—just kidding. Loudly judging.

There were moments I considered skipping things.
Do they really need me to top off their waters? Yes. Yes they do.
The answer is always yes.

So I kept going. I hauled the buckets. I filled the waters. Because that’s the deal.
Homesteading doesn’t pause for colds, flus, or aching bodies. You just do the work slower.

You complain louder. And you go back inside dramatically afterward. When chores were finally done, I shuffled inside like a war hero. Wet boots. Cold hands. Red nose.
A deep sense of accomplishment… followed closely by a very much needed nap.

Having a cold while homesteading? Would I recommend it?
Let’s just say it builds character… and a very strong relationship with tissues.

But there’s something oddly satisfying about knowing you showed up anyway. That even when you felt awful, the animals were fed, the water was full, and the day kept moving.

Tomorrow I’ll probably still be sick.
The chores will still be there.
And I’ll still be out there—layered up, tissues in every pocket, muttering under my breath like a true homesteader
Because around here, the motto isn’t “Feel better soon.”
It’s “Blow your nose and get it done.”

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