Snot-free

When I am sick and congested and my head feels clogged, basically all I can do is lie in bed and whimper. However, Torsten has introduced me to the wonders of nasal spray and the way it clears your congestion for at least long enough for you to take one or two beautiful, deep breaths before the next river of snot comes pouring down your nose and throat and everything is shot to hell.

The problem with the nasal spray is that I am very bad at spraying or touching things in my own face, particularly eyes, nose, and ears. I would like to do it but I can never quite work up the nerve. And the nasal spray in particular is the worst because you have to breathe in a certain way while you spray and I am already stressed about spraying something IN my nose which reminds me of drowning and the additional worry of having to breathe a certain way WHILE creating a drowning sensation for myself? Well, really it's just too much.

But Torsten is a hero. Because not only did he teach me about the beauty of nasal spray. He also takes that bottle, sticks it up my nose, waits for me to breathe correctly, and sprays. And then he tells me how cute I am when I jump. Which I do. Every time.

He will be a good father, I think. Don't you agree?

Also, ever since he first gave me the nasal spray on Friday afternoon, I've been feeling much better. This was probably helped out by the over 30 hours of sleep I got this weekend. By last night, I was feeling alert enough to actually focus on the NBA game that we were watching. And that's when I learned that I am sexist.

Yes, I hate female sportscasters. And not just the cute blonde ones who do the fluff color pieces by standing in the aisle interviewing the 30-year season ticket holders and distant relatives of the players. I'm talking about what appears to be ESPN's newest basketball commentator, a woman who talks about how Carmelo Anthony has a smooth shot and Tracy McGrady has found his sweet spot. She's a color analyst, I think, but she is not a fluff coverer like most female sportscasters. You can tell because they didn't show her on camera, looking cute and sexy, and because her voice is relatively low. She is clearly intended to be Taken Seriously.

And while I'm all about women breaking into male-dominated fields? I wanted to smack her every time she talked. She just sounded like such a fake. Even though what she was saying was TOTALLY REASONABLE. I was the one being unreasonable. She had interesting analysis and if it had been a man saying those things, I barely would have noticed.

But it wasn't a man, it was this woman, and every time she spoke, I twitched with fury. Is it just me? Am I secretly filled with self-loathing? Or does this happen to any of you?