Old Faithful

My lunch break today found me sitting at my desk bleeding from the nose into a series of soggy tissues and waiting for the phone to ring. I couldn't leave the desk until my boss's lunch was delivered and bleeding in an open plan office in front a a bunch of people wearing shoes more expensive than my entire wardrobe makes me anxious. Which is always good for lowering the blood pressure.

I wound up begging a favor and sending someone else for the food when the call came in then hiding in the "lounge" area of the ladies' room. That particular area is decorated in bright white and mirrors like the room where they make you wait while they size your straight jacket. I imagine. The kindly receptionist brought me ice and a combination of icing my face and psychology produced a mind and matter situation that kept me from having to figure out where the nearest and/or best ER is to the office. (NYU is closest, Cornell/Weill is best, I've since decided.) The margins on that decision were slimmer than I like, though.

I think I bruised the bridge of my nose. Not with pressure but because the skin's so close to the bone and since the clotting has occurred there's not much room for the extra blood. My eyes feel swollen. I got blood on the crotch of my jeans. From my nose. That's new. I'd been doing so well this season, too. Nary a drop of nasal blood shed. I remember thinking that to myself earlier in the week. Won't make that mistake again. I probably should have left an apology note for the office cleaning lady because the ladies' bathroom trash looks like a scene out of Dexter.

I find my proclivity for bleeding from the schnozz sort of hilarious. I mean, I'm not allowed to donate blood for any sort of good cause but I've apparently got so much in there I can just waste it all over a white lounge and my cheap ass jeans. That seems...wrong, don't you think?