Thwwoooooonk.

It sounds like a busy harbor here at Smoot Central. Little Smoot and I have been under the weather, so when we breathe we make sounds normally only associated with the shipping industry. My nose sounds a lot like a foghorn. I'm surprised I haven't had seagulls landing on my forehead yet.

Little Smoot will sit there watching TV and she'll start sniffling like crazy, and that drives me nuts. I'll tell her to go use a Kleenex and take care of it before I go absolutely bonkers listening to it. But at the same time, it's a wonder that I can hear her sniffling over the nasty noises I'm creating with my own personal nasal passages.

Let's just hope that Little Smoot doesn't eventually recognize the hypocrisy I'm creating by getting mad at her for sniffling while I'm sitting there sounding like the All Star Snot Band on my own.

When I get a cold like this, my body likes to hold onto it for unusual periods of time. But at least I'll eventually probably get over it. Mrs. Smoot has had a nagging cough since before Thanksgiving. I can always tell when she's getting up in the morning because it sounds like she's trying to extract a lung through some extraordinarily painful sounding process.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: bah.