So there I was in the darkened theatre, watching Eat Pray Love and hoping for an aha moment to give my life meaning and direction, when you suddenly blew your nose so loud it echoed through the entire room. I mean you actually startled me. And you didn't do it just once. I counted. There were six crazy loud noseblowing episodes. But I wasn't mad. I'm sure other people in the theatre were livid. But I just marvelled at you. I was in awe. What's it like to have that kind of nerve? What's it like to knowingly cause other people discomfort and not even care? When I'm in a theatre I dab at my runny nose with tissue rather than let her rip. I'm the type who prefers to text or email because a phone call seems too intrusive and demanding. And when I'm sharing a room with someone, if I have to go to the washroom in the middle of the night I try to hold it rather than risk disturbing them. So I guess I should thank you. The movie didn't provide an aha moment but you sure did. You made me realize that the world can be divided into two kinds of people: noseblowers and bladderholders.
You jerks, I mean noseblowers, are the ones who get things done. You build bridges and wage wars and know how to get the caramel into the Caramilk bar. We bladderholders are the nurturers, the dreamers and inventors, the chumps, I mean the shoulders to lean on, when you noseblowers come crying after you've made a mess of things — like spilling gallons of oil or unleashing Speidi on the world. So we both have our uses. And if you could agree to the 7:10 while I take the 10:15, I think we could live in perfect harmony.
Sincerely,
PC
