when your nose hates your face

We are a house infected.  A festering pool of nefarious germs, plotting their next victim.  If the iPhone had an app for Electron Microscope, Oh the horror that would be seen.

We are a family of dominoes.  Clio went first, then me, then Leif.

The passage of my cold is punctuated by the honk of a nose blowing thick mucus into a piece of tissue.  Claims are made that this is the tissue of choice to prevent a painful nose.  Surely it is softer than the other type of tissue often used in times of nasal drainage desperation but it is hardly the merciful cloth of healing zen it claims to be.

As I get older I become less tolerant of a runny nose and sinus pressure.
Good Gawd eyes, please remain in your sockets.  I wave the white flag comprised of used and crusted tissues.  My red, chapped nose whimpers.  I surrender and swallow two sudafed.

So I lay flat on my back on the couch, with a wad of zen tissue stuffed up whichever current nostril flows forth with the goo, which is a result of my body battling it out against the millions, nay zillions, of viral particles my body is host to.  I can almost see them in my stuffy stupor: an assembly-line of rhomboid shaped robots injecting my helpless cells with their own evil genetic material.  My mind wanders to that scene in Alien when the Chestburster makes its debut*.  Yeah, like that, I think, only on a teeny tiny cellular level.  

This is what happens in the midst of sleep deprivation for seven nights in a row.  Cracks begin to shine through in the defenses.  Hallucinations of tiny Facehugger alien viruses attacking my cells float above my eyes. Every coherent thought other than the near obscene desire to have a real and true night's sleep seems to have vacated completely.  Lost to the dead ends of disrupted synapses.

All this because one wee baby girl had rivulets of snot, impossible to clean up fast enough, trailing from her nose and this mother's inability to refrain from still kiss-attacking her face.  It's 2:30 am, I'm writing this on my phone, and the epic battle between my immune system and the Alien virus rages on inside.  As shitty as I feel I don't regret it though.  I will gladly pay this price everyday for the continued chance to give kisses and snuggles to the daughter who sleeps soundly, recently filled up on my milk, in her crib down the hall.

*My thoughts often wander towards Alien or Aliens.  They are my favorite movies.  Also, beware that link above goes to a graphic scene in the movie.