Delicate Building

The past few days I have had so much dried mucous in my eyes when I wake up, that I could easily build a dried mucous house, an eye booger mansion.

Well sure, it'd be small, but I bet it would be at least 2 stories high.

And I guess this might be the proper time to let you know that I am fascinated by typically gross things my body does. If I pull a particularly gnarly scab off myself, I may save it for a day or two just to look at it. I love hunting for ingrown hairs, and then painfully yanking those fuckers out with tweezers just to gaze at those renegade follicles like a victor, like Hemingway fawning over a kill with sad, lover's eyes.

So I am a little overcome with emotion right now that there is not a small jar of eye boogers waiting for me at home. I just didn't think of it.