Once again the cold season has reared its snotty head!
Am now into week two (since first sniffles) and so so very tired of hearing my pitiful moans each time I have to blow my nose—which is the ugliest shade of reddish-purple I’ve ever seen and trust me I’ve been doing plenty of bathroom-mirror-staring-up-the-nostrils since plugging up.
I keep thinking Man-Wonder has reached the breaking point in listening to my sniffing and snorting, and has waited until I fall into the daily dozen or so, half-sitting, foggy slumbers before sneaking in, and, lovingly (sure, sure), shoved wads of twisted tissue up my nostrils, in hopes of a few moments of silence.
The other though that keeps me checking is the thought that maybe I’ve sleep-sniffed so freaking hard I’ve sucked up my a shit-load of fibers from my drool cloth.
HEY! Don’t laugh!
Since the nose turned into a solid block of . . . , there’s been a lot of serious mouth-breathing. And, since I’m unable to sleep on my back, the drool have the perfect opportunity to make a run for it.
Colds are so disgusting!
Take coughing—mine is now a serious strain on my abdomen it’s causing more embarrassing moments. Like having to run for the washroom because the bladder has been coughed inside out.
Gotta’ go to the doctors? Or run out of cough syrup? Guaranteed the cough-fart, cough-fart, cough-fart scenario is coming up. And worse yet—since the nose is blocked, there’s no sense of smell.
You start a cough-fart session and you better start
trotting running away.
Never mind you’re doing a serious imitation of tugboat Annie as you propel yourself forward.
Never mind that your mouth is hanging open like a demented cat. Or that there’s a thin silver bubble dancing on the end of your nose.
Just go. . . G0. . . GO!
Yeah, I love colds. It brings one down to the humblest of places. I guess in some ways it’s good to get a cold. It makes one appreciate full body control and function.
And now, thanks to the daily pot of stinging nettle, green, and red clover brew, the dark circles under my eyes are slowly fading and the ability to hear the world around me is growing stronger.
Like the sound of Man-Wonder doing a lot of low-level throat clearing. . .
. . Crap, Crap, and double-crap—I do believe round two in the battle of the travelling mucus is about to take place.