Breathing had become boring
Careened across May 25, 2025.
A lifelong goal I finally achieved this past Tuesday: I clipped all ten of my fingernails without a single one flying across the room never to be seen again. I celebrated by clipping my other ten nails next—and they too all behaved! It was a glorious day! (And one day, I will figure out where all those wayward nails go. Perhaps they’re partying with all the socks lost in my dryer. Or that spiral ham I lost behind the toilet in ’95.)
Then I tried to clip my nose hairs and they all sprung off into the shadows—every last one of them. “Pasternak!” I swore mightily. “Kekulé! Dick Fuld!”
On Wednesday, I realized: Breathing has become boring and repetitive. Indeed, I checked my nose log and confirmed my suspicions: But for a scant few exceptions such as insufflating a bevy of Everlasting Gobstoppers in 2010, I have been breathing nonstop since the day my nose log began (and likely before that).
So, I stopped.
By Friday, I realized: I was now doing nothing with my nose—and hauling it around with me everywhere I go was becoming quite the burden! So, what to do? Pull it off and send it away like I did with my appendix back in ’98? But what if I decided I needed it again?
I decided to tuck it away in my sock drawer for safekeeping. For now.
Then I realized I’m not doing anything with my buttocks anymore either. What to do…?