It used to be, when I had an annoying cold, that Mom would consign me (chest smeared with Vicks smelly petroleum jelly) to a nest of fluffy pillows, wherein I would lounge, wheezing and coughing and aching, to plow through my stacks of aging comic books.

On my bedside table would rest a large glass filled nearly to the brim with what she called "ice-cream chocolate milk." It was milk with Quik blended in, then re-blended with generous scoops of vanilla ice cream that were left more in particles than was the case in ordinary milkshakes. It was deliciously throat-soothing: a comfort that clearly added to the already-beneficial nature of the rest, Vicks, and comic books.

Today, in the sixth day of a wheezing, coughing, headachey cold, I sit at the office computer terminal to wrap up the next issue of Comics Buyer's Guide.

Ah, but when I'm done? I'm thinking about fluffy pillows, ice cream, and comic books.

Have comics helped you cope?