You know what's really loud when everyone else in the house is sleeping? The answer, of course, is everything. For example, ripping out the perforated center of a fresh, new Kleenex box equates to slamming a door, dropping a large wooden bowl to the floor and screaming at a high decibel level. This is what I hear, in my head, right now, when I have 4 ounces of extra snot in my sinuses. I truthfully don't know what the regular level of snot is for said cavities, but my vast knowledge of this from Advanced Biology with Mr. Bowen during my junior year of high school puts it at about 4 ounces less than what I must have now. I just thought I should explain how I arrived at that number. Quite scientifically, obviously.
We have company visiting from out of town, so all of the rooms of refuge for nights like these are unavailable. The presence of these guests also amplifies the distracting performance of noise I was sharing with the household before I had a smart idea. I am unsure why it took me over an hour to realize this, but I did discover I could just take my sniffling, nose-blowing self outside.
Here I sit, at 4:30 in the morning, finally finding the time to post a blog on a site which I claimed I would update more frequently. That was in June. Good intentions sometimes don't go very far, for all sorts of reasons.
Oct. 1 has brought a chilly 80 degree morning, and I was enjoying the peaceful sounds of the neighbor's pool, which must have some type of running water feature. And now the air conditioner just kicked on, taking over all serenity with its loud whirring motor. The short-lived Zen moment that didn't fully develop is now complete. Plus, I forgot my Kleenex box inside. Also, a mosquito just bit me. Good, I certainly wasn't expecting any special favors.
Oh, Urgent Care, oh, Urgent Care, open your doors for me.
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