I have been at war with my sinuses for almost a week now. The nostrils trade off, each enjoying a wonderful vacation from their very important task of allowing me to breathe. My lips are chapped. My throat is perpetually dry. Eating a meal without choking as I attempt to both breathe and chew at the same time has become an accomplishment.
However, for a few seconds today, the left nostril opened. Completely. I was able to take a handful of deep breaths for the first time in days. The tissue inside my nasal cavity, hidden beneath its armor of mucus for the last week, burned as the fresh air rushed past it. And then, of course, the nostril clogged right back up. For a few precious seconds, though, I was reminded just how much I take breathing for granted. I miss it.
But this moment has given me hope. Maybe tomorrow I will get more than a few precious seconds of unimpeded breathing. A girl can dream, right?
Friday, February 27, 2015
Saturday, February 21, 2015
My Gym
Not the one where I work out because that one doesn't exist. The one where my three year old goes to do "gymnastics" once a week.
The music is so loud the children have to shout to make their tiny voices heard. The walls are nauseatingly cheerful. Bright colors and smiling cartoon animals assault your eyes from every surface. For some reason, every animal is waving at you--except the fish, obviously excused from the creepy greeting due to his lack of arms. In an effort to compensate for the fins, his smile crosses the line from mirthy to maniacal, as if his mouth is trying to split his head in two. One can only assume the children think they're friendly and fun.
I'm convinced that, if I stayed here after they turned the lights out, the animals would reveal the weapons they're wielding in the hands hidden behind their backs. You know, the ones not waving.
Except the fish. He would use his huge mouth to swallow my face.
There's no way I could be here by myself, even if it wasn't dark. The laughter of phantom children probably echoes off the walls.
And don't even get me started on the multitudes of bare feet and booger fingers that have touched every bit of this place. The amount of cooties in here has to be epic.
But we'll be here again next Wednesday because the kid loves this damned germ factory.
The music is so loud the children have to shout to make their tiny voices heard. The walls are nauseatingly cheerful. Bright colors and smiling cartoon animals assault your eyes from every surface. For some reason, every animal is waving at you--except the fish, obviously excused from the creepy greeting due to his lack of arms. In an effort to compensate for the fins, his smile crosses the line from mirthy to maniacal, as if his mouth is trying to split his head in two. One can only assume the children think they're friendly and fun.
I'm convinced that, if I stayed here after they turned the lights out, the animals would reveal the weapons they're wielding in the hands hidden behind their backs. You know, the ones not waving.
Except the fish. He would use his huge mouth to swallow my face.
There's no way I could be here by myself, even if it wasn't dark. The laughter of phantom children probably echoes off the walls.
And don't even get me started on the multitudes of bare feet and booger fingers that have touched every bit of this place. The amount of cooties in here has to be epic.
But we'll be here again next Wednesday because the kid loves this damned germ factory.
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