All Snotted Up
A while ago I posted on the one of those automatically generated topics covering the subject of the best way to deal with a cold (read it). One recurring theme of my life seems to be karma going for three points with my balls from forty yards out. Story of my life.
At any rate, I’m now well into a full-on cold, and just loving the feeling. Obviously this is a key moment where I can put my so-called wisdom to the test and see if all that shit I wrote about with water, sweating, and whiskey actually works. Given the last critical step, however, I’ve got two days to go before the weekend. In the meantime, I’ve got a lot of time during the lull in the action between Christmas and New Year’s to ponder my condition. Yeah, I overthink everything.
This then is less of a rant as it is a series of things I wonder about when I find myself venting goo from all but one of the orifices I have in my big, fat head:
Snot. My first question every time this happens to me is, ‘Where the fuck does all this come from?’ Not that I can really form words coherently with thick ropes of crap dangling from my nostrils and being hacked up in juicy lung biscuits. Sorry, but that’s my current reality – an orgy of tissue destruction.
Congestion. This is equally bad as snotting myself to death, and for someone who’s broken his nose five times and has mangled his sinuses well, this aspect becomes hell. Even better, I’ve noticed that somehow the cold is able to close off one side of my nose, then the other, and then coordinate and attempt to suffocate the shit out of me entirely. How the hell does that happen?
Virus. I find it pretty scary that something so tiny does this shit to me. I normally tend to be mainly healthy and have avoided both a flu vaccine and the flu for fifteen years. You really have to wonder about an organism whose only purpose is to infest you, make you spew liquids infested with billions of copies of itself, and then just stop. Sometimes I wonder if it knows when it has successfully jumped to a new host. That tempts me to go hack a big loogie on someone. Hmm.
I’ll admit that none of this mental venting has slowed, stopped, or prevented any of the other fine and wondrous venting going on with me right now. I’m off to locate a box of kleenex.