Sneezy does it

Sneezing is great, isn't it? Admittedly when you've just put a bee suit on and have opened up the beehive and angry bees are flying everywhere and you have a knife and a hive tool ready to take out frames, then might not be the best time to get something caught in your nose to start you sneezing, though that in itself might be preferable to being a brain surgeon in the middle of their craft caught with a sudden dose of sneezes. (Though has that ever happened? What do brain surgeons do in these circumstances?)

Even so, sneezing is awesome! A small volcano explosion in your own head. I like to give myself over entirely to the sneeze, to luxuriate in it, to be teased by the tingling anticipation before sneezing as loudly as I possibly can, throwing my head into it. The Baron sneezed just then and I have to admit I was a little jealous. I especially like it when a whole row of sneezes happen, one after another. Anytime to sneeze is a good time, but one especially good time might be in an important workplace meeting, just when the head of the company is getting up and waving his or her arms around and pointing at an important graph that no-one, including themselves, understands; if possible, you should sneeze on these occasions, a small volley of nasal eruptions to entirely block out their pointless speech.

It occurred to me the other day that sneezing is so wonderful that there should be a small daily apparatus devoted to them. We should have sneezing jackets, and sneezing rooms, and most especially sneezing chairs - a voluminous brocaded armchair, with antimacassar. Of course, it would be called a Sneezy Chair.

But I suppose no-one likes other people having that amount of pleasure. The last time they did stuff like that, with smoking, folks got incredibly jealous, and tried to ban it. It just goes to show what sort of a rotten, wicked world we live in.