SNOT

(A prompt taken from Room to Write by Bonni Goldberg)

PROMPT: For a minimum of one full page, write about snot. Afterward, consider how you felt before you began, as you wrote, and once you were finished. Record your responses. Check if any material emerged that you could incorporate into a piece you are working on. Or, list other unmentionable topics your could explore as you write.

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"You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm." ~~ Colette
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How many times must I blow my nose? I'm sure this cold will last forever and just in time for my global presentation to the board and our subsidiaries. I grabbed a tissue from my purse and felt the thickly sticky substance on my fingers. Gross!

I was pretty sure I'd expelled more than my fair share of snot for one lifetime. I couldn't toss the snotted tissue in a receptacle. I was on the subway, but that didn't stop my urgent need to blow my nose. I shoved the tissue into my pocket and dug through my purse for a snot-less tissue. It was a futile effort. Was it sanitary to reuse a tissue? I mean it wasn't like it was someone else's snotty tissue. There was little else I could do. I already felt the lingering, slowly running drip of snot. From the way the woman across from me was glaring, I probably had a booger rolling down too, like a boulder in an avalanche.

I reused my tissue and couldn't help a quick glance down at it. Okay, that was even more gross. The once clear snot was now a sickly green. Great! That meant time off from work if I picked up anymore symptoms.

The train stopped at my station and I hurried out of the car, up the stairs, and onto the street. Every few seconds I sucked the snot back into my nostrils and thanked my lucky stars when my building was in sight. Hands in my pocket, I made a mental note to throw away all my gross tissues when I felt someone tap my shoulder. I spun around and Larry, my boss, was juggling a few drink carriers with hot coffee.

"Help me out, Jen," he said, and I reached for two of the carriers. I followed him into the building and onto the elevator, up to the seventeenth floor, and to the conference room that was already full of my colleagues. I passed out the drinks in my carriers and shrugged my coat off into my chair.

"Uh, Jen, I think this belongs to you," Larry said, handing me a Styrofoam cup. A sticky green covered tissued was attached to the lid and I felt my face flush red hot as another drip of snot betrayed my nasal passages.