Caution: Don't read this post on a full stomach.
I haven't been blogging much lately. There are two reasons for this. First, one of the ninety or so temp agencies I'm signed up with has actually found some work for me. It's only part-time, and not particularly strenuous, but it tweaks my energy just enough that I feel more like reading other people's blogs than working on my own.
The other reason is that I've had a bad cold. For about a week, my nose was essentially a leaky buttermilk spigot. That right there makes it difficult to operate a keyboard:
type, type, type--SNORRRTT!--type, type, type--SNORRRTT!--type, type, type--SNORRRTT!--type, type...
I did try a Kleenex:
type, type, type--SPFOOSSH!!--type, type, type--SPFOOSSH!!--type, type, type--SPFOOSSH!!--type, type, type...
As I write these posts in the library, either way attracts attention.
After a couple of days, the buttermilk dries up, and you can look down without getting your hands, desk, mouse, mouse pad, and keyboard all wet and sticky. But that's only because the inside of your nose is now concrete, forcing you to breathe through your mouth:
type, type, type--PANT! PANT!--type, type, type--PANT! PANT!--type, type, type--PANT! PANT!--type, type, type...
This attracted the librarian's attention. I had a heck of a time trying to convince her I hadn't clicked on a porn site.
The cold now resides in my chest. So I'm now able to breathe through my nose and my mouth. My lungs are another matter. I just know I have a big ball of pus lodged somewhere in my upper trachea. OK, I'm not entirely sure what an upper trachea is or what it does, but they used to mention it a lot on MASH, and I'm sure if Hawkeye cut mine open, he would subsequently have to instruct the nurse to wipe what looked like week old tapioca from his face.
Writing takes concentration, even on the Web. And I just can't concentrate when the mucus membrane's malignant muck threatens to cut off my supply of oxygen.
If I could just cough it away, then I could write. Not a big cough. Just a clearing of the throat. A mere "ahem."
How's that for a gag ending?