Tuesday, January 10, 2012

211. Snot.

Considering the fact that Tom Waits is unquestionably one of my favorite people on the planet, I have no good excuse as to what took me so long to see The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, but I finally got around to it tonight. Somehow, I also failed to realize until the very end of the movie that it was directed by Terry Gilliam, another person I enjoy. All except for Tideland, that is.
Do not watch that movie ever. I'm not joking.

So I live in a hole, and Imaginarium was pretty entertaining. 'Twere no Baron Munchausen, but I liked it nonetheless.

The boy is out of town until Friday, wizarding, as wizards often do. Which leaves me and the pets to hang around making soup and watching television. I had originally planned to go to the gym tonight, but gave up on that, as well as rudely bailed on a dinner invitation, because I feel like poo.

I am highly allergic to Missouri. Not all the time, but today was definitely one of them. I am also out of Allegra. I may have been delirious at one point because I flaked out and wrote a poem about my misery when I should have been working. I think my boss might have seen me.
It's terrible, and mostly true. Enjoy!

Snot

There is a dripping
accompanied by a tickling
and an itching
in my nostrils
that pours forth
as a tiny Niagara,
soaking me through my tissue,
and punctuated by an A-CHOO!
so big that everyone around me
turns to look.
I cringe, embarrassed,
but the dripping carries on
unaware that I dislike attention,
and completely unconcerned.
“I have allergies”,
I weakly explain,
but I can tell by their expressions
that no one believes me.
I am a threat;
the plague-bringer,
come to infect them all
with some anonymous cold.
It is 9am.
There are eight hours to go
and already, my desk
is littered in paper mache
stones, made heavy with snot.
A post regarding neti pots
appears on the company intranet,
and I self-consciously decide
the message is personal.
I cast paranoid glances
over my shoulder and wonder,
"How do they know?"
The clock drags itself
to 10am.
I am shipwrecked
in a sea of soggy dumplings
with little hope of rescue.
I Google things like,
“How long does it take to drown?”
and, “How to make anti-histamines
out of office supplies”.
I begin to imagine 
my discarded tissues as
unintentional origami,
but give up on the idea 
because no matter how hard
I squint,
none of them resemble cranes.
11am.
*Sniff*
Only six more hours...

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