Trapped in a Box

So hey, here’s a scintillating topic: Anybody use Zicam recently? Or ever? Because for starters, Adam’s a little addicted to it, so we have an astonishing amount of it in the house. The gel swabs, specifically, and if there’s anything grosser than those gel swabs, I don’t know what it could possibly be. For those unfamiliar with the gel swabs, they are these creepy little Q-tip-esque things that come in a tiny plastic tube. It comes pre-gelled, and after smearing the (totally gross) swab into your nostril, you then dip the swab BACK INTO THE TUBE, where it makes this awful sound akin to someone mixing meatloaf in a bowl, before smearing it into your OTHER nostril.

It’s disgusting, in other words. Yet I willingly swabbed my nostrils today because I’ve had allergies that sort of kind of turned into a cold (air conditioning will do this to a girl sometimes. Like EVERY YEAR) that has the terrible side effect of leaving me totally anosmic. This also means I can’t TASTE anything, which has left me in the fortunate position of not wanting to eat anything unless it has a pleasing texture. Oh and also, some frantic Googling led me to believe that I had destroyed my nasal receptors with that stupid Zicam and OMG THE PANIC that I would NEVER SMELL AGAIN. And I might not! Exhibit A: Adam just brought curry chicken salad into the room, and I can’t smell it. Curry! CURRY SMELLS.

Do you have bad bowels? Would you like to let loose around someone who won’t notice, much less care? I’m your woman. Come over and fart! Hell, POOP ON THE FLOOR if you want to! I WILL NOT SMELL IT.

(Incidentally, I’m hopeful that this will … I don’t know, reduce the severity of my cold symptoms? Stop this from turning into a green snot-fest?)

In unrelated and random news, it bothers me that so many stars become LA Lakers fans, because COME ON. You can’t tell me that these stars never had a hometown, and if they are sports fans now, why weren’t they sports fans THEN? I’m all for them attending the game(s) — especially now, I mean, it’s the NBA Finals, but to see them all decked out on LA gear is so … disingenuous. Not that I had high hopes for stars’ integrity to anything, much less a sports team. Although in fairness, I DESPISE the Lakers (and Phil Jackson!), so perhaps I’m not the best person to judge.

Finally, we’ve been dealing with tornado watches all evening, along with thunderstorms that I’ve heard have the potential to drop “windshield-smashing hail” which, combined with heat that could easily sear a piece of brisket, is making me think that I never left Florida. Perhaps I’m cursed, doomed to live in some sort of weather warp, where tornadoes and thunderstorms exist only for me, while the rest of the world has normal weather. Because honestly, tornadoes? In Vermont? We have MOUNTAINS. How is that even POSSIBLE?

And with that, I’m going to go, because I had no business writing anything today, given that the last two days have been miserably devoid of anything except hiding out in my bedroom, because HOT DAMN it’s hot out there. And if I’m honest, it’s making me a little (OKAY A LOT) fucking nuts, because there’s nowhere for me to go except here. All of the coffee shops in town that have WiFi are sadly sans air conditioning — hell, Adam’s OFFICE doesn’t even have air conditioning (LET ME REMIND YOU WE ARE IN VERMONT) — which leaves me stranded in our very blue bedroom with blue shades and low windows, giving the illusion of being stuck in an endless loop of that Finding Nemo ride at Epcot. And since I actually have to work, it’s not like I can go anywhere else, and OH MY GOD I AM TRAPPED.

Everyone thinks working from home is such a breeze! I’d LOVE to work in my bedroom, they squeal in jealousy. And all I’m saying is that I’ll give my left PINKY TOE to head into an office right now, preferably one with powerful air conditioning and free Diet Coke — no, no, FRESCA.

Save me.

*No Doubt

TRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPEEEED.

24 comments June 10th, 2008