I just blew my nose so hard, my right ear hurts. That's bad, isn't it?

And I did it into a wad of toilet paper. (Yes, it was clean.) That's what I always do. I've been thinking about sickness paraphernalia a lot the past week. A plague upon your sinuses will do that to a girl. And it occurs to me that this is probably not normal - both the toilet paper and the thinking about sickness paraphernalia.

Other people probably buy actual facial tissues.

I think I stopped in college. Who has money for tissues? If there was anything left after tuition, books, gas and caffeine, I bought wine and pizza. (Didn't like beer then. Don't like it now. It looks like cat pee. I'm sorry, but it does.) Besides, you have a whole roll of tissue in your bathroom already. Yards and yards of the stuff. What college student is too uppity to blow their nose on butt paper? Certainly, I wasn't.

Now, I buy better wine. (Not the five-dollar bottle but the nine-dollar bottle, thankyouverymuch.) But still no tissues. It just seems superfluous. But probably I should consider having a special box around for guests. You know, like those fancy little towels no one's allowed to use. Our guest towels actually have a monogram. And yes, my mother bought them. Maybe we could get special monogrammed guest tissues. Can you emboss something that thin or would it just have to be printed?

I feel a cottage industry coming on.



(By the way, it took me five minutes to come up with any spelling remotely close enough for spell check to finally spit out the correct form of "superfluous." English teachers spinning in their graves right now.)


(Also, I think my husband would like it noted that he keeps actual tissues at work because, as he informed me, "I'm not a savage.")