I itch. My skin feels like it has shrunk. My car died in the middle of the road over the weekend because of the cold. I have split ends. My cuticles are horrendous. My lips bleed. My nose is stuffy, AND dry, AND leaking. I can’t breathe when I wake up. I have to scrape ice off my windshield in the morning. I sneeze a inopportune moments.I am running low on sweatpants and cold gear. I don't have good gloves. My hands are no longer soft. My legs cramp. My skin turns red.
It is the holiday season, also known to teachers in the grade school world as the "Keep these sick, sniffling, un-hygenic, touchy little monsters away from me" months. This is the time of year when people come in to work stoned to the gills on day time cold medication. The air is permeated with the scent of Vicks, whether it be the rub that people put on their chests that morning, or the tissues soaked in the stuff. Peoples faces go blank for a number of seconds, their eyes twitch, and then their nose explodes violently as they sneeze. You can't sit through a class without hearing at least one person snorting loudly every minute, and apologizing for it every other.
I tend to have a strong immune system. I don’t know the last time I had a fever. I have only had the flu once, and only gotten a vaccine shot once. I don’t freak out about germs when someone coughs or sneezes on me (I freak out about having someone rudely cough or sneeze on me). But I do get one bad cold a year, and wake up every morning with phlegm stuck in my throat. I hope this isn’t the start of my cold. I do not want a cold. I never like colds. I don’t like snorting and hocking throughout the day to no avail, and blasting 6 gallons of mucus out of my nose and mouth to no effect. I don’t like having a raw, Rudolph-red nose and a raspy voice.
In other random happening, my fingers may be broken. My back door had not had a door know on it for about 3 years now. When we came home, we would simply push the door open. If we were carrying groceries, we only had to open the outer screen door, then turn slightly so our back was to the actual door, and press with our butts, and, lo, the door would open. If we were aggressive, we would booty bump it. Since Saturday, I have run my fingers into the door at least a dozen times, and bruised my butt. Upon leaving, I have grabbed the upper handle and pulled, only to hear a resounding thud as the bolt caught. I am not used to my house working as other houses work, and it has resulted in a painful learning curve.
The last item of business goes to our Christmas tree. My family bought a tree from Roy's out in Kohler, as we do every year. We settled on a fattish 9 foot tall tree, slightly smaller all around than our standard tree (10 feet tall, 7 feet wide). It has since shrunk in size because of a family member wo decided he wanted the tree to himself; Quigley. Quigley is our young dog. He is 2 years 8 months on Thursday, and he has a teething problem. He eats (not simply chews or gnaws on, EATS!!!) milk jugs, aluminum cans, frisbees, quilts, whole ham bones, and, apparently, the tops of Christmas trees. He also bites his nails.His redeeming quality is a nearly unmatched athleticism, and a face that just looks pathetically cute to the point where you can't hate him. His affection for humans is a double edges sword, as he has dislocated at least one of my mother's toes every week since he was 20 pounds.
In closing, I would like to say that I am dearly looking forward to the Third Annual Ice Bowl, a day after Christmas tradition where former high school classmates romp through the snow hitting each other as hard as they can, maybe trying to score a touchdown, and throwing insult with far more effectiveness than a frozen football. I have been awaiting this day for months, and am more excited for it than an exchange of gifts on Sunday morning.
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