Colds make for desperate people.
Yesterday, I sat in a steam room while wearing a sweater. Once I drank tea. (TEA! That "beverage" that tastes like water with some herbs in it. Gross.) Cloth napkins become appropriate snot rags. It's ok to smear Vaseline all over your face. Mixing Sudafed and an antihistimine along with your regular pharmaceutical cocktail is legitimate.
Anything, anything to take away for a brief moment that tickle lodged high up in your nostril. That demon who can clog it up or break the dam.
Today I woke up to an NPR story about "nasal irrigation," which is a practice of flushing your nasal cavity with salinated water. Yeah, yeah I know about that. Please, I'm an eco-minded, liberal feminist—like I don't know people who own neti pots? I'd even tried Leslie's before, when my nose was irreparably clogged. I don't know where the water I poured in one nostril went. It was supposed to trickle out the other nostril. Much to the dismay of Leslie's cat, who anticipated licking at the stream of water coming out my nose, it did not.
But today, I decided I needed to irrigate my nose again. And I decided I needed to tell everyone that "I irrigated my nose." The notion was just too preciously nerdy. I couldn't help but conjure images of farmers sprinkling chalky dirt fields with hoses.
I was too cheap and too tired to schelp to a natural foods store to buy a neti pot, so I bought a baby nasal aspirator at Wal-Greens. I can't justify spending a lot of money on something used to shoot water up my nose. But nor could I embrace the rugged and reckless but free method of snuffing water out of your cupped hands. That says Afterschool Special material to me.
The actual irrigation of the nose is nothing to write home about, but, of course, it's something to write on a blog because that's what blogs are for, fools. It seems to alleviate my nosy symptoms for a while, and I'm willing to try it again, if just for the purpose of telling someone I irrigated my nose.