Image from PictureSpider
I’ve had a busy few weeks, giving poetry readings and attending poetry events of one sort or another. A lot of saliva flies around at poetry readings; have you noticed? Sibilance by its very nature demands a level of spit not seen anywhere outside of a snake hissing contest.
The result of all that liberated discharge, however, is that at some point I contracted a cold. I felt rough – really rough; rougher than a cold should make one feel; but I am of a delicate nature, of course, as I might have mentioned once or several hundred times. I was useless for the first three days and then the mucus began its exodus and then it eased and then I started with a sore throat and then the sneezies came.
It was at that point, lying in bed feeling very sorry for myself, that I remembered that I had once read that you can’t sneeze with your eyes open, or your eyeballs will fall out.
Now this is one of those things that I believed I didn’t believe, so when I felt a sneeze coming on, I decided to try to keep my eyes open. The things we invalids have to do to keep ourselves amused.
When it came to it, however, I chickened out. Apparently, I do believe that if I sneeze with my eyes open, my eyeballs will fall out. I was assailed with a terrible image of a huge sneeze and…plop…plop…stinging eyeballs caused by carpet fibres (apparently you can feel carpet fibres even though your retinas are literally detached. In my world, anyway). I could hear myself screaming at the Hub, My eyes! My eyes! Don’t stand on my eyes!
There was I at three a.m., 52 years old and afraid to sneeze in case my baby blues fell out. (My baby blues are actually hazel, but ‘baby hazels’ doesn’t have the same ring to it). I think may have overdosed on the cough medicine.
Tell me you’ve got a similarly ludicrous fear; please. Eye don’t want to be alone.