November 25, 2004
ca-cough-any
You might thing that I just don't know how to spell cacophany. Which would be true. I had to look it up. But no. The title means much more than that.
If you ask BrilliantEditor or Erotica or BellyRub or PTAMom or Dr.Dad or AngerTrain, if you ask them how I fare in a room full of random noises, they will say, "Not well." If you were to narrow it down to loudish noises, they will say, "Really, not well." Then if you ask them to narrow it down to loudish noises that happen at irregular but frequent intervals and accomplish nothing they will say, "Not a good idea at all."
So here I am. I've got a cold that is nastier than I would like it to be. I was convinced it was one of those sniffly things that goes away almost as soon as it shows up. This one isn't that. Why am I whining? One: It's fun. Two: It allows me a bit more latitude to be irritable. Three: It makes me a self-sacrificing charmer of which you've never seen the like. Four: It's relevant.
So here's the scoop--I'm at BE's parents' house for Thanksgiving. The food is amazingly good. Really really good. I missed out on Thanksgiving with my family's Thanksgiving, which is always fun with lots of laughing and lots of food and lots of noise, but I get this Thanksgiving which is always fun with lots of laughing and lots of food.
But the noise.
Noise. People here cough and clear their throats all the time. Eh-hem. Eh-eh-eh-eh-hem. Hemmmmmbbbbbrrrrr hem hem hem. Gieeeeeeeeeeeehk-ek-ek-ek.
ALL THE TIME!
I want to take them all aside and say, "Hey, it didn't make it feel all better last time. Why would it make it feel all better this time?"
BE and I have a "conversation" about this when we're at home. He has the same habit. He makes an unnecessary coughing sound (unnecessary because he made one just a few minutes ago) and I say, "Sweetie, would you like a glass of water?" He kind of growls that he doesn't. And then I'm quiet.
Then he clears his throat/coughs again. "Honey, do you need a cough drop?" I get the growly treatment again.
A while later, like half an hour, but it's still annoying the hell out of me, he coughs and I say, "Darling, I think you should go to the doctor for that cough." He growls or ignores me.
"Darling, I'm going to be crazier than normal if you don't stop that soon."
I doubt he'll go to the doctor of his own free will, but he'll go. Dammit. Even if it is genetic. Cough. Hack. Ech.
So there I am, anyway, with my cold and little cough and stuffy nose feeling like people must be really tired of me snorfling and gaffing all over the place, but they aren't! They can't even tell because they're making all kinds of racket in their throats. Like Billy Bob Thornton in Sling Blade.
