Last night, I breathed in air from both nostrils. If that wasn’t gift enough, immediately following the smooth inhalation of fresh air up the entirety of my nasal orifice, I then exhaled carbon dioxide through both nostrils concurrently. Sometimes, I need a few days of nostril blockage to appreciate the gift that is a clear nasal passageway. Isn’t that always the case-that we don’t appreciate what we have until we don’t have it? Well, acknowledging the functionality of my body was long over due. I made it to the end of an entire day without sneezing or sniffling or shoving an olbas oil inhaler up my nose in a vain attempt to menthol-ate my nostrils. Sweet, sweet air, how I’ve missed you. And you came to me uninterrupted and in the nick of time for Mother Nature took an enormous snow dump on my driveway last night, and I had to take a deep breath and shovel the mini van out of her frozen feculence.
If I’m being honest, I only shoveled a small portion of the driveway. After every snowfall, young gentlemen arrive like snow fairies from the sky and offer to shovel for a reasonable fee. I am happy to support local entrepreneurs who will do the work that we so loathe-even if it means I have to raid Asher’s piggy bank to come up with the cash. After they completed the task, I had to clear the car of snow. My neighbors kindly informed me that in 2009, New Jersey added a law to the books that makes it illegal to drive with snow on top of the car-something about endangering drivers when the shelf of ice slides off your car and flies into the windshield of the car behind you. Yeah, ok. For legal and practical reasons, I had to clear the 18 inches of snow off the car and then off the driveway. And after weeks of sickness and only just breathing out of both sides of my nose, I’m tired. Are you playing your violins for me? It’s tragic, isn’t it–all that physical work for such a delicate flower such as I am. Luckily, I survived to write another day.
And here I sit in front of the fire with my headphones on drowning out the carnage of brother to brother combat taking place before my very eyes on the sofa. Pandora provides a pleasant soundtrack to sibling skirmishes. Soon, there will be tears, and I’ll be forced to remove my headphones and intervene. Until then, I choose to enjoy the fire and the music and the air flowing in and out of my nose.