Quiet literally. Sunday morning after eating breakfast I decided that it was time to take the curtains down in the kitchen and living room. As I stood, balancing myself on the arms of my comfy chair, I reached up and grabbed hold of the metal rod. As I lifted it up to gently (remember I said gently) lower the curtains, I lost hold and they came tumbling down onto my head, bringing with it dust that had been accumulating over the past three years. Yuck!
After a few sneezes and gasping for clean air, I tossed them into the dryer on the fluff cycle to rid them of any remaining dust particles that somehow resisted the urge to land prime real estate in my lungs. I then proceeded to clean my nostrils out via the neilmed cleansing system and hopped in the shower.
While I was waiting for Sarah's arrival and to begin our mission to the outlets for shopping, I began to sneeze. For most people, when they sneeze, its just a little "a-choo" and they are done with it. I wish I were so lucky. My entire back convulses, my eyes water and get sqwinty, and then the "ah, ah, ah, AH-CHOOOOOO" comes barrelling out of my nose like some thunderous freight train. If that weren't bad enough, my sneezes rarely come alone. No, they bring their mother, brother and second cousins twice removed along for the ride.
Needless to say, and to no fault of Sarah, the shopping trip was absolutely miserable. I would be trying on a dress or some assemble that we put together. Every time that I lifted my head to pull the shirt over, my eyes would catch the light. Even the fitting room attendants were shouting out "Bless you," from down the corridor. How embarrassing.
Finally, after three stores it was time to go home. I felt terrible because each place that we left I felt should have been labeled a bio hazard. Where is the CDC when you need 'em, eh? Using my great logic skills here, we decided that the only prescription that could possibly heal the ailment in my nose was...ice cream.
After having my cookie dough and brownies mixed into the cold, creamy diary treat, Sarah and I walked across the street to the new yogurt shop. I had never been in one before and it was buzzing with business. People were literally sitting on the curb devouring their delights because there was no more room in the store.
Later that afternoon, I faced the fact that I was sick, fumbled through the boxes that I had packed that now contained my pantry and dug out some cider. Unfortunately that did not do the trick. Both nostrils were just as equally and stubbornly clogged as before. Then, remembering that for some reason (and I still have no idea why) that there was one Ny-Quil stored on the top shelf of the dish cabinet. I jumped once, twice, three times the charm, and poured myself 2 tablespoons of the oooey, gooey, green liquid.
I have found that it is no fun and incredibly hard to self medicate. Although I knew that by downing the disgusting syrup, I would feel monumentally better by morning, I still found it difficult to voluntary torture myself. Perhaps Mary Poppins was right, a spoonful of sugar does help the medicine go down, but unfortunately for me, I had already packed it away.
Times like these I wish that I had know my great-great-grandmother. My mother use to say that whenever she was sick, Mama Lee (g-g-gmama) would make her take a shot of whiskey. Now, that's what I call medicine. She use to say that if that didn't clear your head, she didn't know what would.
Unfortunately for me, and my nose, I still have the curtains on my fourposter and bedroom windows to take down. Perhaps, though, I may vacuum them beforehand.
Oh, and I need to borrow an electric drill to take the screws out of the wall.
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