The Time I Blew My Nose And Brains Came Out

I’ve been sick as a horse. Wait, do horses get sick? And how would you know? Whenever you ask them questions, they just say “neigh.” Ba dum bum. You can tell I am feeling better, because my really bad jokes only emerge when I’m feeling pretty good.

So I went down to Portland a couple of weeks ago, the place that was built atop an ancient unicorn burial ground (I did not make this up — it’s on Facebook so it must be true — but they only bury the really really ancient ones so they leave the perky young ones to prance around and make rainbows)(unicorn euthanasia)(don’t you love alliteration that doesn’t even start with the same letter? Am I a word nerd or what?) and that pulled me like a magnet all the way down I-5. I awoke that morning, my voice two octaves lower than usual (Matthew said, “Ooh, sexy!” and meant it) and my throat feeling like someone had taken a barbecue grill brush to it during the night.

I was sick.

With a job to do.

Meeting people and being all Professional In a Suit. Also wearing New Riding Boots, even though I had no idea there would be actual horses. Which made my hand muddy when I stroked their muddy necks and tried to avoid their long yellow boot-eating teeth, also teeth that mistake fingers for carrots. Hey, it happened once. Could happen again.

So for two days I was perky and also wise, and talked and talked and talked. Three hours non-stop on Saturday. NINE HOURS non-stop on Sunday. In between sleeping in the Room of No Sleep, the one everyone said casually the next day that, “Oh that? Everyone we know who has slept in that room had trouble sleeping there.” Thanks. Yes, it had a bathroom of its own, which I appreciated. Considered sleeping in it, too.

And then I drove back up I-5, a whole state’s worth of I-5, afterward.

And then died.

But wait! Then I had to pack! And drive again on I-5 to an airport! And sit on a plane with wadded-up airport toilet paper in the pocket of my Holt Renfrew stylish trench, because I had forgotten real tissues that weren’t made of sandpaper.

And then flew and died some more in someone else’s house.

Like I said before, I am an awesome guest.

(By Day 5, I was doing the dishes, so be kind.)

But all that was TWO WEEKS ago. So why am I still sniffling and coughing? I thought I could blame the trees, which burst into blossom while I was away and stand there, smirking and covered with pollen, but for four days I stayed indoors and didn’t even breathe, so it can’t be that. I am tired of coughing up gooey lumps and I forgot to buy real tissues even though I have now been to the store TWICE this week with tissues on my mind and sill I came home with marked-down Valentine’s candy instead. Twice.

Why?

Why am I still sick?

Is a breast pump adaptable for noses?

I do have a nice vase of pink tulips, though. You don’t think it could be those, do you? They’re so … pink. Innocent. Even though I watched the water level get lower and lower and the one tulip with the really short stem drooped over the side of the vase, head down. Downward dog tulip. But I gave them all a drink and what do you know, he’s (yes, I made the tulip a him) standing up again! Yay tulips!

It’s not eBay, is it? Because I left the Tucson Gem and Mineral Show thinking I surely had not spent nearly enough money and by the way I needed two silver chains for the pendants I bought as a combination Christmas – New Year’s – Valentine’s Day gift for myself, maybe with my birthday thrown in. Plus I needed new Tibetan prayer flags, you can never have enough. Also probably something else. You know how it goes when the bidding gets crazy. So I hope it’s not eBay that is causing me to cough and gasp.

Maybe it is eBay. I should pretend it is and that could be my excuse to weaning myself away. I hate eBay anyway. It’s so yellow. You know that eBay yellow? Awful color. Probably causes uncontrollable urges. And coughing. It’s probably the yellow.

Yellow is the color of mucus. Not my mucus, exactly (I haven’t been checking — should I check? What if it’s, like, brown? or black? Sign of the plague? Is this plague?)(IS THE PLAGUE CONTAGIOUS THROUGH THE INTERNET?)(Maybe you;d better stop reading now, just in case)(Hey! Maybe that’s how I got sick to begin with!!!!!!!!), but general mucus.

[Insert military joke here. “General Mucus?” the officer coughed, “Slimy fellow. Slippery.”]

Yes, as of tonight I am approximately 6% done with the book I am writing. Congratulate me!