Scared Snotless
23 December 2005
I have had the pleasure of battling a cold for the last couple of days. I actually haven’t felt too bad. Oh sure, my head feels like it is going to explode and I have only been able to breathe through my left nostril, but I can still function.
Last night, however, my stuffy nose abruptly changed into a runny one. I was lying in bed half-awake, trying very hard to ignore the fact that the cats were messing around, when suddenly the dam that was blocking the air passage of my right nostril let loose. I grabbed a Kleenex before the river of snot made a puddle on my pillow and after I dabbed up what was dripping from the end of my nose, I decided it would be a good time to blow it.
I have never been a quiet nose-blower: I blame this fact on my father who measures his success not only by how damp his snot rag becomes, but also on how much noise he can make with his honker. Therefore, when I sat up at a little after 4 am this morning and blew into my Kleenex, I am a little embarrassed to say that it sounded not unlike a fog horn.
In fact, apparently it sounded so much like a fog horn that I managed to wake A. up from a deep sleep. He sat straight up in bed and with those big scared eyes that one only can manage when being woken up from a dead sleep, looked around while wildly mumbling, “What?! What was that?!”
It took me a couple of seconds to realize what he was talking about, but when I did I laid my hand on his arm and said, “It’s OK. I just blew my nose.” To which he replied, “That was you?!”
