Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Spring is in the air. And so is my phlegm.

I am a seasoned sneezer. Allergy ridden as I am, I go nowhere without a little travel pack of kleenex. Partly because I need it, and partly to perpetuate the rumor that I'm actually a ninety year old woman. But spring always sneaks up on me, and I generally spend the first week of April thinking I have a tenacious cold, the symptoms of which aren't severe enough to make me miserable, but persistent enough to be REALLY annoying.

This year is no exception, and I spend most of my time alternating between blowing my nose, clawing at my itchy eyes, and whining like a little baby. Today, though, brought a new low. During a standard project update, my assistant interrupted me mid-sentence to say with alarm, "Wait. What is on your arm?!" My handy travel pack of wipes had failed me, as evidenced by the slick loogi perched on my bicep. Apparently I had sneezed it there earlier in the day.

So gross.

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