A couple of weeks ago I got The Plague. And by "The Plague", I mean a "summer cold". An over-statement, perhaps, but have you had a summer cold lately? It will knock a girl out. Mine was made all the more lovely by the fact that it occurred when my husband was out of town on business. Needless to say, it was a free-for-all of Domino's and DVDs at my house. The kids loved it, although I have to say that I missed, you know, breathing.
My sweet new bloggy friend Patsy told me that what I really needed was a neti pot. She promised it was a sure remedy of The Plague, and that my beleagured nasal passages would thank me. I trust Patsy on matters of spiritual significance, so I figured I could certainly trust her regarding mucous removal.
The problem was, I had no idea what a neti pot was. So I Googled it.
Oh, my word. This is what I found (and really, you have to watch at least the first half of this video before you read any further):
First of all, let me just say that whatever the neti pot people were paying that actress, it wasn't enough. I can think of several things I would put on my list of Things I Don't Want The Internet To Watch Me Do, and topping the list would certainly be flushing snot out of my nose.
But I was desperate for relief, so the first thing the next morning, I loaded the kids into the van and went to Walgreens, in my pajamas. I have never done that in my entire life, and I'm sure that my Southern grandmother was rolling in her grave.
(And strangely enough, the Walgreens check-out guy pointed at my pants and asked, "Pajamas?" And I wanted to say, "No, mister, I ALWAYS walk around in faded flannel pants covered with little cows jumping over the moon. YES, THEY'RE PAJAMAS, and anyway, isn't this a pharmacy? Aren't there bed-ridden sick people coming in here all the time? Were you really expecting a cocktail dress?" But I didn't say all that; I just looked at him sadly and blew my nose.)
Where was I?
Oh yes, the neti pot. Here's what mine looks like:
I took my new little remedy home and read the instructions. I was dubious; the whole thing looked to me like something that the Geneva Convention should be debating as a torture procedure. But if you were paying attention in Western Civ 101, you know that closed-up nasal passages have a long history of driving women to recklessness.
And I went for it.
As a result of my experience, here are some Eternal Neti Pot Truths that I can share with you:
1. The first few times you do it, you will not be as graceful and calm as the woman in the video. There will be snorting and coughing and near drowning, and it will not be pretty.
2. It is best not done in front of an audience, especially an audience of little boys who are fascinated by anything related to body fluids.
3. But if you reconsider on #2, above, those same little boys will think you are very, very cool.
4. And? Remarkably? It works. When I finished, there was actual oxygen flowing through my nasal passages. It was a wonder.
And just when you think that I couldn't possibly have anything else to say about a little plastic implement designed for snot removal, I will tell you that oh yes, I can. Because after my first treatment, I set the neti on the counter to dry. A couple of hours later, I noticed it had disappeared. I searched, high and low, all through the house. Finally, I found this in my three-year-old daughter's room:
My sweet little daughter was having a tea party with my snot-removal mechanism. Oh, I shuddered.
Let's hope nobody in this family needs a bedpan anytime soon, or My Little Pony may have a questionable new watering hole.