ugh. people mr nice guy normally prides himself on his robust immune system. do you know how often i get sick? no? a little secret people: I DON'T GET SICK. it just doesn't happen. sorry to break it to you. the first year that we were living together in sin, mrs nice guy must have gotten sick 35 times to my ZERO. but i am that special type of loathsome person: a carrier. all kinds of diseases and illnesses glom on to me daily, like burrs in the wilderness that cling to your socks in hopes of having their seedy cores carried to fertile ground, the diseases i come in contact with merely use me as a vessel. they wait until i introduce them to some weaker mortal. and i always do: my long sniffling bride.
but, the cruel gods of disease and discomfort have finally found a fatal loophole. allergies. FUCK! for the past three days my nose has been running like a barefoot kenyan. i have single-handedly seen to it that the Kleenex corporation will far surpass its profit projections for this quarter: my head weighs 80 lbs, packed ear-to-ear with snot. my right eye feels like it's about to pop right out of my skull. i can't sleep. i hope loogies are low-fat because i have swallowed at least eight gallons of this stuff so far. i do not feel ill, mind you, just phlegmtastic.
i can't be more than 100 yards from a napkin, or else i must wipe my nose on my shirt, as i did all morning. my sleeves are stiff now. crusty. just yesterday as i was putting the Amazing Recalcitrant Napless Anti-Aircraft Siren down for a mid-afternoon snooze (oh the hubris!), i leaned over her crib and pet her head. it was that crucial moment where her eyes were getting all droopy and she was seriously considering the possibility of sleep -- i can't tell you the sheer terror of these moments, when she's in her crib and her eyes have just closed and you think your work is done. why, that's the exact moment she flings her eyes open and decides NOW would be a good time to start levitating while channeling axl rose. anyway. i was leaning over the crib, stroking her moist head (our baby sweats a lot; kinda awesome), holding her pacifier in place with the other hand and making womblike shushing noises. basically she's only four months old and already i am totally her bitch. there i am leaning over her, stroking, cooing ... and what should happen? as her eyes are beginning to droop, i feel the slightest tickle in my left nostril.
oh shit, i think. about to spring a leak.
leaving the crib now is Not an Option. nappus interruptus has been proven to be the leading cause of convulsive babyrage seizures. so i am hovering over her, both hands in use and the tiniest trickle of watery snot begins to work its way through sinus tributaries behind my eyes, down into the nose. i can feel the progression of the mucus as i stand there, paralyzed. if i move, the child wakes. if i don't, i leak poppasnot all over her head. what to do?
it all happens in slow motion: just as the transparent blob of slime slurps from my nostril, the baby's eyes close! perfect! i stand up swiftly to change the trajectory of my excretion. but i see the snot drop quiver. it spirals downward like a plane-dropped bomb and i cringe. will it hit her? will she wake up? have i just given her syphilis (i don't feel like i have syphilis, but as i mentioned before i am an able-bodied carrier of terrible cooties, so you never know)? as it spun downward i held my breath. please don't hit my slumbering child -- not because i don't want to smear my infectious diseased snot all over her (hell, she barfed in my eye once, so this would only be part one of payback) but because i really, really don't want her to wake up.
it hits her tiny little hand, forming a little snotweb between her outspread fingers.
she doesn't budge.
so i leave her there, napping peacefully, and go blow my nose.