Apparently, all my meanness, and hatefulness, and deadness-in-the-eyes has settled in my sinuses, where an evil mist has formed and avenged the world by making me feel like poo warmed up in a microwave that shoots sparks.
Saturday began normally enough. I went to school (gah!) and actually felt good about getting some work done, it also afforded me the opportunity to decipher the strange and confusing notes in my planner. Wednesday the 1st. Meeting. Wednesday the 8th. Meeting again. I was confused, I thought there was just one day with two meetings back to back. Finally, with Susan's assistance, I get my answer. Wednesday the 1st we are having the regularly scheduled meeting. And then, we are having a meeting, after the regularly scheduled meeting, to discuss the special meeting on the 8th. I cannot make this shit up. It reminded me of Robert Downey Jr.'s line in "Tropic Thunder" where he says "I'm just a dude, playing a dude, disguised as another dude." I'm not sure why.
As time passed on Saturday I was aware of dark forces taking over my nose and I spent the entire night mouthbreathing like an obese pedophile watching a JonBenet documentary. Also, Nyquil gives me nightmares (as if the preceding sentence wasn't enough).
Boyfriend returns from a meeting (we haz LOTS of them in lawschool) to a scene of utter devastation on his couch.
There I am, half concealed behind a fluffy white mountain of used tissues and empty Emergen-C packets. I imagine I look something like the wild man of Borneo, what with my hair being all curly and unbrushed and my face being all pale (except where it looks like the the Meat Lover's Special at PizzaHut) and my eyes being all wild and glazed over with Nyquil. I look up at him with the wild, glazed over eyes, sniff (well,l snarfle) and say, in my not-sexy-at-all almost-lost voice "I don't feel good."
Boyfriend: Aw, you're cute when you're sick. Why can't you be sick all the time?
Love. We haz it.
Yeah, I guess the honeymoon's over when your partner wants you to have the plague because you are more pleasant that way.
Apparently, I am docile and cute when sick. And boyfriend was pleased to let me watch movies and mouthbreathe on the couch, in exchange for this docility and the minimal work of making me a sandwich. Until I decided I wanted cookies. And popsicles. He thought I maybe wasn't being serious and did not move quickly to get them. He did eventually procure the cookies. They were tasty.
But that is so not the point of this post. The point is, I go to the Health Center on Campus (insert doom music here), all sad and sniffly, and with my nose about to fall off and for once, they do not suggest to me that am pregnant or have mono. Srsly? I am impressed, and, in my weakened state, not up to making any snarky comments. They do run a strep test and tell me to treat the symptoms, blah,blah, blah and by the way, have you ever thought of trying a Netipot? Cautious, and convinced this has something to do with toilet training I say....."I don't know what that is..."
Apparently, it is a sinus rinse, which, on a better day I would mock mercilessly, but hey, I'm desperate here, so I buy one from the pharmacy.
I take the magical Netipot home and open it. The box contains a booklet on the mystical healing properties of the Netipot. Also, the Netipot itself. Which looks like a little blue plastic teapot. With a penis for a spout. A RILLY RILLY skinny penis with a HUGE head. Oh no. I have to stick the teapot penis up my nose. On the upside, it comes with, like, a bajillion packets of the magical salt mix. As many as they could stuff into the penis teapot and a bunch more. Score! What a bargain!
I had to sneak home to do this in the middle of the day because I am sure that notwithstanding the fact that boyfriend is all adorable, tea-and-sandwich-making, cookie-procuring, and thinking I am cute while sick, I am sure he'd be Google-mapping directions to the seminary if he saw me with a blue plastic teapot penis in my nose.
I did as the directions stated, I washed my hands, and filled the penis teapot up with distilled water (yes, heaven forbid the plastic teapot penis I'm about to stick up my nose be filled with city water), stir in the magical salts, bend over the sink and allow the solution to gently flow up my nose. It's totally fine if this image makes you laugh so hard you pee your pants.
Sigh, the lengths I am willing to go in the name of my nose and the entertainment of the three of you who read this...
Superman gets brutally defeated.
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