This morning I propped myself up in bed and turned on the television for a few relaxing moments of watching the "Today" show before having to succumb to the reality of the day and the fact that I had to go to work. J was in the shower and Mina and I were cuddled up, still in the realms of last night's sleep, when I sneezed an incredibly forceful sneeze. It's that time of year in North Carolina when the pollen is falling and creates unnatural-looking neon yellow patterns on cars and sidewalks. Everyone is congested, everyone talks about the pollen as though nothing else in the world, no news, no tragedies, no natural disasters, but this pollen exists. Well, I, like everyone else, am susceptible to this horrific rite of spring and so the sneezing is no surprise. But this sneeze...I felt certain something had come out. You know, something of the body had been emitted from my nostrils. So I checked around, grimacing, ready to find some disgusting relic of my nasal passages. I didn't find a thing. Nothing. Nothing on the bedspread or pillow or on my body. I decided I just might have been mistaken about what had seemed to be a rather fruitful sneeze. J exited the shower a few minutes later and came to join Mina and I in our early morning love nest. He was watching Katie and Matt rhapsodize about the Michael Jackson child molestation case for only a few moments before he arose, sharply, from the bed, and said, "Something's on my arm," and ran into the bathroom. I hid right down under the covers, immediately aware of the atrocity that had taken place. "I think it's snot!" he shouted, making all the appropriate faces. I hid deeper, under the covers, torn between pretending to be just as befuddled as he, or tell the God awful truth. I decided to come clean. "The snot? Yeah, I think I know where that came from..."