• Jan 9, 2004 •
Lost bogie ...
Well, after a brisk, cold walk this afternoon (temperatures were hovering around 21 with a wind chill of about 9), I returned to my cubicle and while defrosting began evacuating my nasal cavities of all of the cold-induced bogies. While one clung for dear life after the initial honking, I reached for a new tissue only to find the cling on mysteriously missing from the next blowing (sure I look, always fascinated by the insanely gross things our bodies produce). Fearful that it was somewhere about my face, I quickly ran to the restroom, wiping my face with another tissue in case the worst had happened.
I looked high and low in the bathroom mirror over every inch of my face, including the thick of my beard, only to find nothing. I began checking my shirt and pants to see if it had made a mad dash for freedom at some point between blows.
Nothing.
Upon returning to my cube I scoured the crime scene — my desk and keyboard — in case again there had been an escape attempt I had not noticed. Again, no evidence of a bogie to be found. This will bother me for days. I hate losing anything.
If you come across a lost bogie in the next few days (the life expectancy I would think after leaving the safety of the human body), let me know. No reward is being offered and you do not need to return it. I am only looking for closure.
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Well, after a brisk, cold walk this afternoon (temperatures were hovering around 21 with a wind chill of about 9), I returned to my cubicle and while defrosting began evacuating my nasal cavities of all of the cold-induced bogies. While one clung for dear life after the initial honking, I reached for a new tissue only to find the cling on mysteriously missing from the next blowing (sure I look, always fascinated by the insanely gross things our bodies produce). Fearful that it was somewhere about my face, I quickly ran to the restroom, wiping my face with another tissue in case the worst had happened.
I looked high and low in the bathroom mirror over every inch of my face, including the thick of my beard, only to find nothing. I began checking my shirt and pants to see if it had made a mad dash for freedom at some point between blows.
Nothing.
Upon returning to my cube I scoured the crime scene — my desk and keyboard — in case again there had been an escape attempt I had not noticed. Again, no evidence of a bogie to be found. This will bother me for days. I hate losing anything.
If you come across a lost bogie in the next few days (the life expectancy I would think after leaving the safety of the human body), let me know. No reward is being offered and you do not need to return it. I am only looking for closure.
