Mostly I'm really stuck on the question "Where does snot come from?" I mean really. Is my life supply of snot in there already, waiting to drizzle out of face holes when the time is right? Or am I building it right now. Is there a little workshop in my body where a rusty machine has cranked awake and is now manufacturing gelatinous, meaty, diseased phlegm? Seriously. WHERE DOES IT COME FROM? And how much do I have to swallow before I'm officially considered a cannibal.
Kleenex: Yesterday when the dam broke and everything began to ooze I asked JCrew if she had a Kleenex in her purse.
"No," she said, incredulous. "What am I, 80!?"
Touche. But today I am on my couch so I have treated myself to an entire box of triple ply, complete with aloe moisturizer. Blows are frequent, with little time to recover and let the tissue dry for reuse on a different corner. Rather than surround myself with a bunch of triple ply, aloe moisturized snowballs, I devised a genius plan.
Tip: I'm keeping a plastic grocery bag within arms reach. It not only serves as a one-stop-shop for Kleenex tossing, I can also put my cough drop wrappers in there. This makes it possible for me to remain seated through an entire episode of ...
Sick TV: Right now I'm really into Bravo's "Gallery Girls." It's about young women carving a career in the art industry through a) shitty internships that involve filling a communal dog dish with fresh water or b) opening a clothing store-art gallery in Manhattan. There is relatively little conversation about art, but plenty about the party woes and frenemies in this mix of preppy girls, mainstream girls and super duper hipster girls. I have a revolving cast of favorites.
In addition to sick TV, I plan to drift through wakefulness and sleep at will, hindered only by an inability to breathe through a cement-filled nostril and an inability to breathe through the constant companionship of two cats that want to eat my Kleenexes and be worn as scarves.
Drinks: I have orange juice, which not only has plenty of Vitamin C, but it is the leading cure for the superstitious and sick mind. Sick=OJ. I also have two bottles of PowerAde. I need fluids, obvi, and I need to punch this out with something NBA approved.
But the kicker, friends, is going to be this hot water, lemon juice, Cayenne pepper potion I just mixed up. Seems like a real game-changer.