Things I don't say in polite society

So, no post on Thursday because of the previous pictured/mentioned cold that turned into a minor plague which I want nothing more than to describe to you in great and graphic detail so that you can fully understand and therefore appreciate my unique and special suffering. I will stop that sentance before it gets any farther away from me.

I'm not sure what human impulse it is that makes us feel the need to share the details of our discomfort with others. Simple whining for sympathy? If we describe the visceral details of our suffering, then others can validate our feelings of punyness and make us feel better for feeling like crap.

So, there's some of that in my brain that wants to regale you with tales of mucus and the number of tissues used and the names of the various medications and their side-effects...

I'm not going to...

Not on the internet. In person, I'm not so noble or gracious, but in writing, on this blog, I find that I cannot seem to break the unspoken rule.

You know you're not supposed to talk about religion, politics, or sex at polite dinner parties. Those are the spoken rules. The unspoken rule of polite society that I guess was spoken at some point, probably in our toddling years, but remains mostly unspoken in later years, until now, when I speak it is this: bodily functions and fluids are not to be spoken of--but they are funny, in the base and endless way of whoopie cushions and such.

Potty talk was once something that was limited to the very young and very old. Kids couldn't be expected not to laugh and giggle about farts and old farts were expected to discuss the nature and frequency of their bowel movements*. I mean, who else would keep Metamucil in business? So, we leave the dirty business of examining the contents of our Kleenex's asside.

Which leaves me with nothing much to talk about. I was sick all week. I lay in a feverish state, having bizarre dreams, using Kleenex and taking medication. I watched a lot of Doctor Who. I intended to read, but found I didn't have the stamina to hold a book or the focus to make my eyes comprehend the words. Watching a science fiction series with very loose rules about what is and isn't possible is perhaps not the best thing in the world when one will be having feverish crazy dreams. This wonderful bit of wisdom I pass on to you--the fruits of my labors. Use it wisely friends!


*As a child, I had a keychain from my dad. It was one of those promotional thingies given by drug companies, because he was a pharmacist. He remembers the name of the drug, but is in Scotland at the moment, and I can't really see calling him to ask, but the keychain said "Take in the AM for a BM in the PM." I had no idea what it was for, because a "BM" wasn't anything in my brain, so I never knew I walked around with an add for laxatives on my keys...