Baby Bunny Face for the Win.

13 Jan

I know I’ve officially emerged from the muck and mire of sickness when it all comes out of my face at the same time.

You know what I’m talking about.  That day after a sinus infection when you blow your nose for five minutes straight, wondering where it’s all coming from and whether blowing harder will mean pulling your brain out through your nostrils. Yesterday was my day.

It started out as a simple, ordinary nose-blowing session and once I realized the depth of the situation, I nonchalantly made my way to the bathroom so that I could complete the disgusting task in peace.   Dave, (King of the Man Purse Tribe) sensing what was about to happen, proceeded to follow me and begged to see the tissue when I was done.   Actually, “followed” is not an accurate term.  He proceeded to chase me. 

There is little in this world I hate more than being chased.  It doesn’t matter if it’s playful and it doesn’t matter if it’s someone I know won’t harm me.   It could be Mr. Snuffleupagus behind me and I would still sprint into the far horizon screaming bloody murder.  There is something about running with something intentionally running after you that scares the living daylights out of me instantly and without fail.  Dave knows this and will often accompany the chase with raised eyebrows and cold, murdering eyes, darting like a fierce mongoose through the jungle of furniture in our apartment.  He chased me through the dining room, around the living room, and past the hall to the bathroom where I found my refuge and begged for release. 

I absolutely cannot stand being interrupted while I’m in the bathroom.  In fact, if there’s one thing I hate more than being chased, it’s probably being interrupted in the bathroom.  It’s the only place in the world that I can be alone without having to answer anyone, listening to my phone beep at me, or being responsible for missing out on the goings-on of the world.  

Showers offer me a rare and golden moment of solitude in life.  

 Dave also knows this about me and sometimes tests me while in the bathroom, shouting out ridiculous questions that I clearly cannot answer in my current state,  like where the remote control is.

The beauty of his method is that he does everything that makes me crazy all at once so that he only has to suffer the repercussions of one incident when he’s actually managed to commit several major crimes.   And I can’t blame him because it really is a brilliant methodology.

Unfortunately, our bathroom door is old and complicated and doesn’t lock and since Dave clearly knew that I wasn’t using the restroom for naked purposes, he barged into my fortress of solitude and waited until I had to bring the tissue down from my nose.  I stood there, unyielding and still wide-eyed from the chase.   Like a frightened baby bunny, I coiled in the corner, heart racing with fear, waiting for him to sink his sharp teeth into my tender neck for the kill.    He relented and exited the bathroom so that I could finish my business in peace.  

I’m pretty sure it was my baby bunny face that did him in.

And so I have regaled you with my nose-blowing adventures.  It is the final chapter in my blogging about my sickness.  Because on this, the 13th day of January in the 2011th year of our Lord, after a high-speed chase and a little bit of my brain pulled through my nostrils, I declare myself officially cured.

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