Booger

I was in the gym today, riding the recumbent bike for 50 minutes while reading 30-some pages in Kavalier and Clay – a routine I’ve established to meet my book deadline for K&C. Eileen would have read 50 pages in that amount of time, but I don’t care. My reading comprehension is clearly better. Anyhow, about 10 minutes into the reading/riding I absent-mindedly fingered my nose, which had been bugging me since the end of my morning class. In fact, earlier that morning, right after class, I was trying to disguise a potential booger mishap and so was looking down, sniffing, and swiping my nose (all very casually), when Westra asked me, “Are you sick?”

“No,” I said, looking up at her, still imagining a potential monstrosity hanging from my proboscis. As soon as she looked away, I did a quick face-swipe with my sleeve.

I was not thinking about the morning’s previous nose-related incident while I was reading at the gym, but I remembered it immediately after I pulled out a little boog (and just to ensure it was less conspicuous, looked around the gym to promptly make eye contact with anyone who had seen it). I don’t think anyone saw me, but regardless, I was stuck there with a nose souvenir and 40 minutes left of my workout. Perhaps it’s a testament to my work ethic that I wouldn’t have allowed myself to stop the workout for a mere booger. Of course, the it’s-because-you’re-lazy argument is probably just as convincing. In any case, I put the damn thing in my sock and then forgot about it until just now. There. I’ve said it.