i only wear white when it rains

I’m once again succumbing to a Nyquil addiction undoubtedly due to something irresponsible I did. Such as breathe air.

For the life of me I cannot understand why I won’t so much as wipe an eyelash off my cheek without Purelling first. Yet I’m always one single-celled microorganism away from hospitalization.

And then you have Lucas Lightning Retardo-Montalban who can eat dinner off a changing table at a daycare center and run the Boston Marathon the next day. This was just an overstated exaggeration until I recently performed a single-blinded scientific experiment. Once I felt my sinuses begin to inflate my frontal lobe like a Thanksgiving Day parade float, I thought it might be a good time to forget about my incubation period and accidentally on purpose backwash in Lucas’ passion tea.

Three day later, I’m ready to bore a hole into my cerebellum to drain the phlegm while that jackleg regales me with stories about the last time he was sick (September 1999).

I’ll never understand my susceptibility to food poisoning or viral illnesses. Shouldn’t the owner of an ultraviolet purification light be the person who does not get sick? My mother will maintain (to justify her penchant for walking around outdoors barefoot like she’s still at Woodstock) that it’s because I’m “too clean.” But I can’t help but wonder…what if I wasn’t?  I just know that if I ended up eating Auntie Annie’s cinnamon pretzel sticks at the mall without first washing my hands, I’d probably be the only reported case of a flesh-eating gastrointestinal disease in Pinellas County. And what if  I was roofied into seeing a movie at the Regal Cinema 16 in Pinellas Park and picked popcorn out of my teeth with unwashed fingernails (um, and yes, Rophynol would need to be involved for this to occur)? I’m confident there would be IV antibiotics and a colostomy bag in my future.

So to be safe, I will continue to Purell my steering wheel every time I get my car back from the valet and train my daughter to open doors with her elbows (my proudest parental achievement), hoping that I can at least minimize the assaults on my disinfected immune system. In the meantime, I’m pretty sure our only defense against biological warfare is lurking within Lucas’ mucous membranes.

Recently I noticed my pool filter coughing, sneezing and gasping for breath. Well, it is flu season. Shockingly, I could find nothing in my manual about viral illnesses, so I decided to head outside to perform an exam.

The Boogie Board appeared to be taking the pool’s rectal temperature. Not surprisingly, I found some congestion when I uncovered the lid:

I’m letting Ainsley stay home to recover from the trauma of Chuck E Sneeze. Only if you have the immunity of my indestructible friend Lucas Lightning Jackleg-Montalban can you escape the viral load of Chuck E Sneeze unscathed. He wasn’t there, but I’m confident he could have licked the ticket chomper, stayed at Bar Louie until 3 am, eaten a club sammy at vi and still woken up two hours later ready to run 10 miles.

Ainsley was fine by 7:35 am. But I just walked past the festering abscess that is my laundry room. Now can someone please bring me a scrunchee, Pepto Bismol and a bucket?

Not sure what’s worse. The sudden onset of a bitchy sinus infection that may require a borehole in my skull. Or this blog.

All I know is that several of you have requested that I start blogging instead of inundating your inboxes with worthless email. I’m assuming it’s just easier to ignore me that way. I resisted at first until I realized it’s actually a brilliant idea.

Me: “Give me that 30% off coupon for Gymboree or else I’ll blog about your secret crush on your kid’s tennis instructor. Oh, and please make sure there is extra foam in my latte.”

So read or don’t read. I don’t really care. I just need something to pass the time while I break Oprah’s Pledge.