I Just Haven't Been Myself Lately

Monday, I had the giggles. They started during a Microbiology lecture. All it took was one farting noise coming from three seats down. It sounded like a kamikaze mosquito: zzzzzt.....splat. My lips turned upward in a smirk. A few staccato bursts of air escaped from my nostrils. My back and shoulders started to shake silently. "You WILL NOT snort", I told myself, and decided on clearing my throat as an acceptable alternative to relieve the rising pressure. The "ahem" was only halfway out when the snort made a run for it and escaped: a loud, moist one. Then another. Then five more, in rapid succession.

All eyes in the room turned toward me, eyebrows raised. The fart, they hadn't heard. The snorts, they had. I put my hand across my mouth and nose, gulping rapidly to try and suppress the snorts. It seemed to work...but no sooner had attention returned to the lecture than a rather large, loud, very long one escaped, followed by a chortle. A sharp glance from the lecturer sent both of my hands flying to clap over my nose and mouth, while I continued to shake with silent giggles.

All efforts to control myself were quickly failing. Tears were rolling down my face. My nose was starting to drip. I sniffled, and that made me think of the snorts, which of course made me...snort.

A dirty look from the professor. My hands moved higher to cover my whole face, while my body shook and a high-pitched, wanton giggle escaped. Oh, NO. I never meant it to get this far. I was trying, really and truly and desperately trying, to control it. I took a deep breath in, and held it. I held it until my chest ached and my head felt fuzzy, hoping to once and for all cure the irresistible urge to giggle.

The tide of hilarity began to recede, and my mind was once again engaging in the subject at hand, pondering the difference between DNA viruses and RNA viruses. I dropped my hands, focused on the board, and took a deep, cleansing breath. A long sigh of relief followed, and I began to take notes. At last, decorum reigned.

Mosquito Boy farted again, and I lost it. Snorts, gasps, snarfles, and a long chain of high pitched giggles poured forth from facial orifices while tears ran down my cheeks and dripped off of my chin. My rational mind looked on helplessly. "Oh, Rosie, what has become of you?? You're a 41 year old woman, for crying out loud. Pull it together!" But I couldn't. I looked helplessly at the professor, and he nodded assent as he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling (no doubt asking the Good Lord why, oh WHY, did he have to put up with the likes of me), so I grabbed my things and bolted for the door.

Wednesday, I cried at the drop of a hat. There must have been a lot of folks dropping hats, because I was pulling out a new tissue every 15 minutes. Mind you, these weren't tears of sorrow. Most of them were brought on by precious and meaningful things like a beautiful song on the radio, a doe nibbling at the bushes on the side of the road, the sight of a sweet, cooing baby, or the fact that Starbucks still had fresh decaf brewing. For a few outbursts I had no explanation whatsoever. I mean, a row of four live oak trees in the highway median normally doesn't make me come unglued. Reading the want ads typically doesn't cause the dam to burst. But there I was, sobbing like a baby while I read about goats for sale in the Pennypincher. Go figure.

Thursday, anyone who spoke to me didn't know until it was too late whether they were going to receive a sharp reply in return. It wasn't that I felt irritated by anyone or anything...more that everything I said just came out wrong. I'd speak, and afterward the words would echo inside my head as I wondered, "Now WHY did that sound so cross?"

Later that evening I asked my husband whether or not I'd been cranky lately. After all, perhaps I was just imagining things.

No such luck, as it turns out. My husband, God bless him, is a tactful man. "Well baby, you've been known to show more patience", he ventured.

"How long have I been this way?" I began to worry that I'd been grumping at everyone without realizing it, when in truth I felt quite happy inside.

My husband, who had been standing with his arms around me, took a step backward. "Since before Christmas, my love". WOW. I had no idea. And was it so bad that he was afraid I was going to take a swing?

All I could do was apologize profusely, and assure him of my love. "It's alright, bubby", he said, holding me close again. "I love you anyway."