Thursday, January 26, 2012

Neurotics unite

One thing that really does not mix with my singing habit is my popcorn habit. When was the last time you heard someone say that? Yeah, exactly. But I love popcorn. Not the kind that has all the fake butter on it, or the movie theater kind...just the plain air-popped kind with salt. I eat it every night while watching TV if at all possible. I really feel that if I murdered someone and was going to the electric chair, and they asked me what my last meal should be, I would ask for popcorn as an appetizer. Which, considering that we live in a world that has truffles, artisan breads, french and italian cheeses, potatoes, and the list goes on and on, it is kind of weird that a simple thing like popcorn would make the list. But I love it.

Until a little piece of a kernel gets stuck in the side of my throat.

It has happened so many times, of course, that I have to pick these little guys out of my gums, that a term has developed to describe it: popcorn shrapnel.

But this morning when I woke up with that little pinching thing on one side of my throat, I was like, oh god, not now. Throat infection-a-rama, after everything that has happened already this month? Really? I am not going to describe the scene to you, as I reached down my own throat to try to get the little piece of shrapnel out. It wasn't elegant.

It probably would have dislodged itself on its own, but I would have been damned if I was going to take that chance with my exciting adventure coming up tomorrow, when I get to try to drive in Boston by myself. World's scariest city to drive in.

Today, I think I'll lay off the popcorn, have a coaching, go to work, teach, pack, and then go to bed early so that I don't look scary getting on the plane tomorrow.

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