I know you are quite useful – I mean, without you I wouldn’t be able to smell Freesias, and I am sure my favourite chocolate icecream wouldn’t taste nearly as good, but when we are out running, I so wish you would leave the running to me.
Why, as soon as I get outside and start to run, must you insist on running also. You realise how impractical it would be for me to hold a handkerchief against you for the whole run. You are worse when it is cold. Sure, you run in the warm weather, but when it is cold you are just incessant. Do you realise that this habit of yours puts me in the rather disgusting position of having to…blow my nose on the pavement. URGH! I am supposed to be a lady!! Do you know how unpleasant it is to have to surreptitiously glance behind me to make sure no poor unsuspecting person is nearby and then make like a footballer and just blow? If you weren’t so keen on running, I could be just that little bit less disgusting, but it doesn’t seem to stop you.
You are worse though when I stop. When I am running you run a bit – I sniff now and then and can usually keep you reasonably under control, but as soon as I stop – whoosh! You suddenly think that you have to make up for it and begin to really run. If I don’t grab my handkerchief (which I carry tucked into my running pants at all times, thanks to you) then it really is a mess. Why, nose, do you insist on doing that? Why can’t you just settle down and let me do the hard work?
Of course, this is my only complaint towards you, you know. Generally you are pretty good. You don’t snore (well, not really, although I have told that when I am asleep you sound like a little piglet snuffling for truffles…). You don’t get blocked up that often, and I promise to continue to take lots of vitamin C to keep it that way. But if you could just curb your enthusiasm on a long run, we could have a really happy time together.
Thanks for listening, nose. I am now off to wash a load more handkerchiefs.