A: MY SINUS CAVITIES!!!
Since my allergies have decided to add regular pain and suffering to my daily routine again, I recently took the plunge and followed the crowd of Oprah watchers who swear by the neti pot. And then I was actually crazy enough to use the damn thing!
One night after B had dozed off, I finally removed the neti pot from its hiding place in our medicine cabinet. Standing over the sink, I studied the box carefully, memorizing the instructions and paying close attention to the accompanying images. Images of ladies wearing calm, perhaps slightly smug expressions and holding neti pots to their nostrils. Women who look like they come home after long, exhausting days at work or with the kids and relax with a cool, refreshing neti pot dousing. They sit around watching Grey’s Anatomy, drinking wine, and cleaning their sinuses. They profess their love for the neti pot and the changes it has brought to their lives. They can’t get enough of the neti pot!
I cancelled a date to stay at home with my neti pot!
It’s so easy, even an idiot can do it!
This lady–and Dwight–would have you believe that the best part of your day will be your neti pot dousing.
So for all you would-be neti pot users, I recommend a test run. You’ve got to make sure that you’re up to the challenge when it’s time for you to put your investment to good use, and here’s an easy way to determine if you’ve got the gall:
1. Find the nearest ocean or salty body of water.
2. Wade out into the water.
3. Stick your face under the water and keep it there.
4. Inhale deeply and forcefully through your nostrils.
It’s awful, isn’t it? If you’re anything like me, you’ll walk away from the experience with bloodshot eyes, excessive drool, the feeling that your sinuses are on fire, and perhaps a few small sea creatures falling from your nose. But, if you’re anything like me, you’ll wait until the cover of darkness to do it again the very next day.
Yes, I formed a neti pot habit. Each night, careful not to disturb B’s peaceful bear-like slumber, I bit my lip and silently endured as the contents of the Gulf of Mexico–oil spill and all–rushed through my sinuses and into the sink.
Several days later when B complained of allergy symptoms, I handed him my neti pot and ducked out of the room before he could see my evil grin. After several minutes I heard him squeal and toss out a few choice words followed by a series of violent snorting sounds and another string of choice words, and I knew he’d discovered the joys of the neti pot dousing. He emerged from the bathroom a while later, exclaiming something I’m going to take the liberty of editing down to “That was awful and painful!”
Clearly, he hadn’t done a test run before his first encounter with the neti.
You’ve been warned.