-The Astringent Sick Day-
It was Sunday. Not a genuine sick day from work, but you'll grant me the same empathy given to a personal day.
The headaches, the sneezing, the coughing...
Immaterial.
They'd be gone before the first date with the Russian classmate later in the week, but the skin imperfections they'd leave in their wake could be fatal.
I could feel the bacteria clogging the pores. The sensation was so unpleasant and distracting that I contemplated at least three untenable means of running a government and a free press in conjunction with the entertainment industry.
These three excellent but ultimately flawed ideas gave me enough pause to stop pondering while staring at the ceiling beams, and begin gathering household astringents. In that respect, my narcism is the same as everyone else's.
Windex would do in a pinch.
But I don't have much in the way of windows in the carriage house, so that was a no-go.
Toothpaste could work, but unlike the liquid window cleaner, this substance retains its blue color on the skin. No deal.
In my search I disturbed a silverfish. It could move, scrabbling out of the bathroom and around the wall, then down the stair space ceiling. Despite its speed, I had plenty of time to admire it, reach the top of the stairs, and remove Yoko Ono's Breadfruit from the nearby shelf.
All those years in Library school have taught me a thing or two about throwing books. The Silverfish didn't have ten legs to stand on, and I wiped all of them off the dustcover with tissue paper.
Right next to the tissues I found an old tube of clearsil. Basic, but I think it'll work.
The headaches, the sneezing, the coughing...
Immaterial.
They'd be gone before the first date with the Russian classmate later in the week, but the skin imperfections they'd leave in their wake could be fatal.
I could feel the bacteria clogging the pores. The sensation was so unpleasant and distracting that I contemplated at least three untenable means of running a government and a free press in conjunction with the entertainment industry.
These three excellent but ultimately flawed ideas gave me enough pause to stop pondering while staring at the ceiling beams, and begin gathering household astringents. In that respect, my narcism is the same as everyone else's.
Windex would do in a pinch.
But I don't have much in the way of windows in the carriage house, so that was a no-go.
Toothpaste could work, but unlike the liquid window cleaner, this substance retains its blue color on the skin. No deal.
In my search I disturbed a silverfish. It could move, scrabbling out of the bathroom and around the wall, then down the stair space ceiling. Despite its speed, I had plenty of time to admire it, reach the top of the stairs, and remove Yoko Ono's Breadfruit from the nearby shelf.
All those years in Library school have taught me a thing or two about throwing books. The Silverfish didn't have ten legs to stand on, and I wiped all of them off the dustcover with tissue paper.
Right next to the tissues I found an old tube of clearsil. Basic, but I think it'll work.
posted by Benedict | 3:16 PM
4 Comments:
As you can see, the comment feature is back. Unfortunately, word verification is necessary these days.
I guess the residual effects of the Patriot Act have finally seeped into Blogger.
The word thing is a pain, but it does help block spam.
Regular toothpaste (not gel) does work. But have you ever tried tea-tree oil? It's see-through and good for use on a sick day, when you can apply it about 16 times a day.
I don't want to speak too soon, but it seems my jackass former dermatologist was right, and that getting knocked up did clear up my face (for now). So there's one more option for you, if you don't mind trading little bumps for one really unsightly bump...
But you always look fantastic, so just keep your face clean and get lots and lots of sleep, and you'll look great for your date.
Ah, it is okay.. Eventually, it faded of its own accord.
But I still haven't gone on that date. The Russian instructor is hard to track down, distracted as she is with her coming nuptials.
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