Who says manufacturing is dead in the great US of A! My nose is manufacturing stuff all the time. A #1 prime stuff all the time, 24/7! I am personally keeping the Kleenex Corporation in operation. I have their number on my speed dial. “Hello, this is Maureen, I need an emergency shipment immediately. Send a crate load!” I’m on the hit list of all the “Save a Tree” people. Did you ever wonder how a magnificent tree becomes a tissue? Who thought that one up! Hey, let’s cut down this tree and blow our nose in it! The Farmer’s Almanac predicted a cold wet winter for the East Coast in 2003-04. My husband, who never gets sick, told me that they don’t know what they are talking about. “Hey we have the Green House effect going on, we’ll probably have palm trees growing by the end of this winter” he said. “Hah!” says I. There is little skin left on the tip of my Irish nose. It is swollen, red and puffy and in need of some tender loving care.

I’m avoided at work like Typhoid Mary. There is nothing more I like doing at an important meeting than to blow prodigiously as if punctuating the speaker’s words. I tried a dainty dab…my nose kept running. I tried a gentle little blow…still my nasal passages refused to give up “the stuff”. There was no help for it. I needed to breathe so I closed my eyes and gave a hearty blow. It sounded like an elephant roaring through the jungle! There is nothing that will clear a room as fast as people who think you might share your germs with them. Was it me or did the meeting come to an abrupt and sudden end with people exiting quickly, shaking hands with each other but ignoring my outstretched albeit germ ridden offer of a friendly, professional goodbye.

Peg my Administrative Assistant asked me if I had any alcohol in my desk to wipe down my telephone. Why? What for? I already had the germs, if the phone gets sick it isn’t my fault, it’s not like my cold virus will shut down the network. Lacking any alcohol I sprayed the phone with Windex. Lacking coordination I dropped the bottle of Windex, the plastic bottle cracked and Windex spilled into my sneakers lying under my desk. They were soaked. My whole office began to smell. An interesting aroma of ammonia and worn sneaker wafted around my desk. I bent to examine my poor sneakers and the ammonia triggered my nose to again begin the cycle of mass production. Dropping the sneakers I lifted my head and banged it on the edge of my desk. It isn’t professional to utter profanities at work so being an Irish Catholic I yelled “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” On a side note none of those entities responded.

I yelled to Peg to get some paper towels. She was back in few seconds with an armload. “How did you get them so fast?” I asked. “Well, you remember last week you knocked over your water bottle and the week before that your coffee cup, you know the one with the plastic lid you never use…well I thought I should be prepared.”

“Peg, are you implying that I’m a klutz?” I whimpered through my soggy tissue. “I’ll have you know I took 8 ballet lessons when I was twelve years old!”
“ Eight lessons! Imagine that, must be why you’re so graceful!”
Hmm was that a crack? I could see Peg’s eyes rolling back in her head!
“ But, why only eight?” She asked.
“ Well, every time I would bend in a plie my knees would creak and my ballet teacher would cringe. She said they sounded like a metronome.”
“ Yes, I heard them when you bent to pick up the Windex!”
“ Very funny.” I whined rolling up my tissue and tossing it in the basket.

Not getting any sympathy at work I longed to home, get a nice hot cup of tea, the Irish panacea, and soak in a warm tub. I fantasized about how soft my feather pillow was and how nice it would be to lay down my weary cold germ filled head on its cushy surface all tucked in under my cozy quilt.

Not generally a clock-watcher I silently cheered as the big hand touched 12 and the little hand 5. I couldn’t wait to go home and die in peace. Cheerfully I put on my scarf, sweater, damp eau de Windex sneakers and winter jacket.
The shuttle to the train station came on time and deposited all of us commuters near the steps to the train platform. The wind was bitter cold and damp, I said a silent prayer that the train would come on time.
Fifteen minutes later, my prayers were answered. Not my first prayer, the train was ten minutes late. My second prayer, the one where I made a deal with God to give up Coca Cola if only the train would come and I could get out of the bitter wind and cold. Slowly it appeared at the far end of the track, like some wounded dinosaur bellowing. Tiredly it came to a full stop and eight frozen people climbed aboard.

I lucked out and got a seat by myself next to a wonderfully huge window. Wow what a view. Frozen tundra and bleak leafless trees everywhere. How complimentary a back drop to my death throes. I thought again of my nice cup of hot tea and my cozy bed waiting for me at home. I was rudely pulled from my pleasant reverie at the next stop. Hacking, sneezing and coughing this little old lady made her way down the aisle and sat her germs down beside me!
“Achoo! Achoo!” She sneezed so loudly that her scarf tipped forward over her forehead.
Then she fished in her enormous purse until she found a suitable tissue.
“ Phllegggggg! Phllegggg!” The trumpeting sounds were deafening as she blew her nose. When at last her job was finished to her satisfaction she turned to me held out her cold, germ riddled hand and said.
“ Hello, my name’s Rose hope you don’t mind my sitting here!”

I tell you some people have nerve! Oops, wait a minute, wait a minute …Kerchoo! Kerchoo!

“Say Rose, do you have a tissue I can borrow!”