Ulitmate Dorkdom

...the ongoing saga of the bloody cold.

So this morning I get up and lug myself off to work in the cold morning air and about three blocks from my house my nose starts to bleed, actually gush would be the best word to describe the event. I stop to get some kleenex from my purse and as I look down my dress now has several red stripes, lucky it's sort of a redish purple already. Now, if any of you remember it, I was wearing that purple swirly patterned 'eowyn' style dress I made a while back, but because it was cold I had my sweatshirt on over it - bad fashion choice, but I was sick and cold and tierd, and to top it off I was also wearing a pastel rainbow colored scarf because it happened to be the one that was out, and it's the snuggliest one I have anyway, so yeah, I looked pretty dorky when I left the house, but now I've got blood down the front of me and a couple of dry kleenexes ain't gonna fix it. I've got bigger things to be worried about though, like how not to leave a bloody red trail down the pavement. So there I am walking down the street in the morning sun with a soggy red kleenx pressed to my nose, held high so that instead of running down my hand into my sleve it's running down my throat, and my other hand pinching the bridge of my nose to try and stem the flow....which...isn't....working. I walk all the way to work looking like a complete dork, muttering curses on my nose, and leave a lovely bloodstained fingerprint on the bell by the door. My nose is still bleeding. The manager comes and lets me in. I explain. It's still bleeding. She turns on the faucet so I can wash my hands and get a wet rag without leaving more evidence. ....And it's still bleeding. She takes care of the first delivery guy. And I sit on the stool holding my nose like some kid in the principle's office who got in a fight, only I don't look angry and pouty, I look dull and miserable, and wondering if I can 'call in sick' on account of a bloody nose.