We’ve been invaded. Not so much by aliens or foreign nationals seeking to use our undersized kitchen to make an army of gingerbread men hell bent on destruction and world domination, but rather by a rather nasty case of nasal membranes being a little over active in their secretions. In other words, Rhiannon’s nose is running like a mother. I was going to say that then she should catch it, but she didn’t think it was funny the first time around, so I won’t bore anyone with it here. Please disregard the previous sentence.
We don’t know if she is getting sick, has allergies or a generally ill-tempered nose at the moment. While dried nasal mucus is apparently a sign of good health (and a good reason to see how far up your nose you can get your finger), clear runny mucus is not. And in a race between Jesse Owens, a horse, and this snot, I’d bet on the horse, but you get the idea.
It’s bad enough that, at one point last night, Rhiannon had both nostrils plugged with Klennex to save her lip from becoming any more chapped.
If things don’t get better, I’m thinking about getting her a snot sucker of her very own (correctly termed a “nasal aspirator”). And if it means I could suck up pop and spray it into my mouth without having to expend the energy of lifting a full glass – more power to me and consider the order placed.
I might get two. No telling who’ll put one of those things up their nose. It’s almost like that’s what they’re meant for.