I've Lost My Dignity. If Found, Please Call

I believe it has best been said in lyrics by Mary Chapin Carpenter -- a woman who's a lot better writer (and singer) than I ever could hope to be.

"Sometimes you're the windshield. Sometimes, you're the bug."

The problem is that I feel that my time as the bug is too frequent. And my time as the windshield is so infrequent that I often don't even know that I'm in the circle of power until it's over.

I caught some sort of nasty little virus on the plane back to Michigan. I figured if I gave it a few days and took it easy it would go away. Instead, the nasty little bug has decided to set up camp in my sinus cavity and lungs. I sneeze and people say, "God bless you. I have allergies too." I just nod because I figure if I try to talk and they hear a croaking frog instead they'll run off screaming. And then I cough. But it doesn't really sound like a cough anymore. It's more like a giant sexually frustrated manatee in Florida barking for his long-lost mate. It's definitely not human. I feel like such a freak. One of the guys in my office walked past my cubicle today to get a look at what was making those noises.

It's not enough that I'm feeling poorly. This morning when I was driving to work, a giant piece of plastic that was floating over the freeway wrapped itself around the front of my car and wouldn't let go. So there I was. The giant barking sea manatee driving to work at 75 mph in a Civic wrapped in plastic. So much for the bugs.