Here’s a confession consisting of entirely too much gratuitous information.
While sitting in the cushy well furnished waiting room section of Il Duce’s occupational therapy appointment I felt a bout of intense hay fever coming on. The weather here in the Nations capital has been a changin’ and spring has officially sprung along with watery eyes, fits of sneezing, perpetually runny noses and endless hacking.
I had already run to get the ladies room key TWICE in a span of fifteen minutes, and that required doing the following.
Being buzzed into the offices main inner sanctum and finding the secretary.
Asking nicely for the large wooden plank that read LADIES.
Being buzzed back into the outer room.
Being buzzed back into the super secret inner sanctum again, saying “thanks!” and then repeat for the second bout.
So you can see now why I was hesitant to go through this ritual yet again.
I rummaged around inside my cavernous pocketbook and found nothing to fend off what promised to be a deluge of mucous shot forth like a snot rocket all over the pristine and gleaming waiting area.
I contemplated using a discarded tampon wrapper and a piece of notebook paper when a reassuring voice blurted out.
“Just use your sleeve silly”.
Hmmm, I could have sworn my conscience just told me to let go and wipe vile body drippings on my arm.
So I did.
And then I folded the arm of my shirt over twice so no boogers were visible. I’m sure to be a top contender for Emily Porters Best of the Best.