Oh, the human body. Such a wonder. Such a miracle. Such a conglomeration of what reportedly are just minerals and other stuff worth about five bucks. Hey, that grand total, according to some sites through Google, is up about 60 cents from 100 years ago. Dang inflation, huh?
Even though our bodies are monetarily worth such a small sum, those same bodies do things that are priceless. Like sneezing. Oh, there are several other and varied ways a body announces itself. Loud, obnoxious and, yes, somewhat fragrant ways. But the sneeze is unto itself quite a trick.
There’s the tiny sneeze. The one that’s trying not to be noticed, but by trying to hide, it often will cause a squeak of some sort. The sneezer seems to be so self-conscious about sneezing that hiding it becomes mute as hiding it causes this squeak and thus more attention is created. So just sneeze and get on with life.
My father was a master sneezer. He reveled in the sneeze. He could bring an entire household to attention with a honker of a sneeze. I have only seen this a few times from others. It begins with a squish of a face, a stitch in the nose and then air begins to be sucked up, and up and up. Until — here she comes! The sneeze and the noisy “achoo!” gathers up a head of steam, then escapes rattling dishes in the cupboard. I’m telling you mothers grab small children and rush them off the streets! And the look of satisfaction on the honking sneezer’s face is a sight to behold.
I, on the other hand, am just your typical sneezer. Until recently. I was caught off guard by a sneaky sneeze while mowing the lawn. I didn’t even know the sneeze storm was gathering when all of a sudden this “achoo” escaped and I had to look around as it sounded like one of my father’s sneezes. I was by myself thankfully as I was embarrassed by the commotion. But I have to admit, there was some satisfaction afterward. I do hope, though, I don’t become accustomed to it.
The rule of three often accompanies the sneeze factor. You know, good things come in threes, bad things come in threes and if my other half was to be believed, sneezes came in threes. I’d sneeze once and he would say, “Again,” then I would sneeze again and he would say, “One more.” Sometimes I would hold back as long as I could just to prove him wrong. But more often than not that third one couldn’t be ignored and, “Ah, ah, achoo!” I lose. Try as I might, I couldn’t get a fourth one to deliver me from the rule of three.
In crowds, someone always seems to sneeze. Especially outside with pollen and smoke and tiny things floating in the air just looking for a nose to climb into. Which, if you think of it, is better for you. I mean, if you’re outside and a sneeze is spewed, you have less of a chance of getting sneezed on than you would if you were in an enclosed place — like an elevator.
Man, being in that stainless steel closet as it goes up or down has got to be one of the worst places to be standing next to someone when they sneeze. Even if they’re polite and cover their face, there’s no escape. You can’t walk away, turn around or even duck successfully. A sneeze in an elevator will bounce off the four walls surround you and then, bang! All that goodness is upon you before the doors open when you can run for the nearest hand sanitizer station. So being outside doesn’t sound so bad now, does it? Yeah, thought so ...
I’m not the queen of sneeze, but I’m betting she’s out there. I thought I was until I took notice of a few sneezers at an outdoor event recently. Little sneezers, honking sneezers, repeater sneezers, and, of course, those who try not to sneeze. I don’t recommend that. I believe the top of your head could blow straight up if you tried to hold in all that power. Not to mention I’ve heard it’s impossible to sneeze and keep your eyes open! Yes, I know you’re going to try it. Take heart, you’ll not be alone! Bless you!
Trina lives in Eureka, Nevada. Share with her at itybytrina@yahoo.com. Really!
