This is a gross post.

I do not often get sick. In fact, in the past 3 years, I have been sick exactly 3 times. Fortunately, they have all come at the least inop­portune times — during various breaks. I got sick two Christmases ago, and then again last Christmas, and now I’m sick again during summer break.

All three times have been really insanely awful sinus infec­tions. I’m not the sort of person who gets sinus infec­tions with every cold. No, I only get sinus infec­tions when I get something–we’re talking about foreign bodies here–stuck up my nose.

I don’t go around putting things up there delib­er­ately. Christmas ’07, I sneezed with cheese in my mouth and got a bit of cheese stuck up in the back of my nose. Raging infection. Christmas ’08, it was same show, only with cauli­flower. Really awful.

This time, I got it from a book.

I’ve been reading Agatha Christie’s Poirot novels, and checked a few out from the university library. The offending book was The A.B.C. Murders. It had been water-​​damaged and was quite moldy and dusty. Nonetheless, I stupidly insisted on reading it, as it was the school’s only local copy. Well, I got a fragment of brittle paper, complete with myste­rious, unknown, and probably highly dangerous black book mold, stuck up the back of my nose. I must have breathed it in. I felt it imme­di­ately and tried to get it out, but no go. Twelve hours later, I’m a pus-​​filled, mucus-​​spewing, 101.3-fever-running mess.

I’m returning the book in a bright orange ziplock bag with a biohazard logo on.