Sanitizer=Love

It's that time of year again...the Christmas lights are twinkling, the snow is gently falling, the kids are making their lists in hopes that they've been good, and I am getting sick as shit again.

Everywhere I go, I have been surrounded by nasty germs. Dylan's school host a ton of snot-sleeved kids waiting for the right time to touch you. Target has those god awful carts that are riddled with the germs from that crazy guy who lit up a cigarette in the checkout aisle (true story). The popcorn girl at the movies (The Queen was terrible by the way), the gas station guy (because it's too cold to pump it myself), and the mailman...they all wait until the perfect moment, and spread their nastiness to me.

Actually, that's not true. They pass it to Dylan, who then, in return wakes up in the morning, gets into my bed, and the very moment I turn my head towards him, he sneezes. Right. In. My. Face.

It's not so much the runny nose for me as it is more of a black-plague-like-cough-slow-death-thing. There's no way to politely cough to clear your throat in public with this type. It's the kind that you have to stop walking, and cover your mouth with both hands because you look and sound like a barking seal. It's that real powerful type of cough where every muscle in your body clenches when you cough. You know, the kind where you tighten your butt real hard because you'll let one fly when you cough.

Very attractive to say the least.

It makes the nightly treadmill routine quite humorous though. Running leads to coughing, leads to farting, leads to laughing at self, which leads to the complete and utter horror on the faces of your loved ones.

Happy Holidays.

(sorry, Indigo- I had to put it up)