I have a bad cough.
It starts up pretty much the second I lie down or sit at anything other than a perfect 90° angle. At times like this, I remember when my sister1 taught me how to cough.
"Enough of this wimpy coughing," she said to me when I was sick at a young age. "I'm not letting you take any Robitussin until you show me you can cough correctly."
She sat me down and started the lesson.
"It's cough-a-cough. Every cough should sound like that. Now do it with me: cough-a-cough."
As the years went by, I thought I had mastered the art of coughing. Until the other night when Marnie told me, "Ugh, enough of this wimpy coughing."
1For those keeping track, this is the same sister who once, while babysitting me, broke a yardstick over my head. I may or may not have egged her on by daring her to do such a thing — I really don't remember. In fact, my memory of that evening is somewhat hazy for some reason...