Curbing My Enthusiasm

I sneeze REALLY LOUDLY. And I can't help it. I can't...fucking...HELP IT.

So, last night I was walking down the hall and sneezed, which sent Will jumping in his place upon the couch. Then he proceeded to look like he just ate a shit sandwich and rolled his eyes.

We promptly got into a fight.

I CAN'T sneeze softly. I can't. I've tried. Have you seen the size of my nostrils lately? I can't do it.

AS GOD AS MY WITNESS I'VE TRIED TO SNEEZE SOFTLY.

If a group of us were huddled under a bridge hiding from flesh-eating aliens and our very lives depended on whether or not I could sneeze softly??

Forget it. We'd suddenly find ourselves on the galactic food chain...Sorry.

If a group of us were perched upon a cliff and were teetering on the brink of a deep crevasse that would swallow our lives whole and if I sneezed loudly, the rock from under us would crumble??

Well, you could all beat the crap out of me while we fell, because we'd be fallin', sister. Sorry again,...my bad.

It's like he doesn't quite get it. He says that I "shriek-sneeze" and he thinks that I have "sneezing Tourette's". He thinks I do it on purpose.

I don't.

I'm a pretty honest person. Therefore, I'll tell you what I DO do, on purpose.

I wait outside the bathroom door while Will is preparing to shit. When I'm CERTAIN that he's in the middle of shitting, I throw open the door and run into the bathroom screaming my head off.

THAT, I do on purpose.

And in all fairness, and in the spirit of peace, I have decided to try and curb that addiction.