Ha!

WS, I use a variation on the neti pot theme (squeezable plastic bottle that comes with little packs of ... something). I use bottled water, boil it, mix the solution in a pyrex mixing cup (to make sure I get the right amount and don't melt the bottle), then let it cool to warm. Then I pour it into the bottle and squeeze away.

then let it cool to warm.

Yeah, I left this step out. (Well, I left all the steps out.) I just figured no one would assume I was pouring boiling water through my sinuses.

I find using the warm solution is MUCH better than using cool/cold. And I use bottled water simply because I don't trust the tap water (really - don't drink the tap water in DC).

In other news, I've been doing manicures recently. I tried the one where you transfer newsprint to your nails using alcohol (I remember the person who came up with this used vodka, but plain old rubbing alcohol works just fine). First hand was so-so, second hand looks pretty good.

I just figured no one would assume I was pouring boiling water through my sinuses.

I think we've already established that your pain threshold may not be normative, so I made no such assumptions.

I imagine you wake up and barehand a boiling tea kettle and pour scalding water into your face while your boyfriend tazes you into wakefulness. Then you sort of yawn and stretch, eat broken glass for breakfast and take a shower in a sandblaster, and do your nails with a power sander. Then Tim pops you under the drill press to trepan your nostrils and drags you to work behind the truck.

while your boyfriend tazes you into wakefulness.

That's my snooze alarm.

Then Tim pops you under the drill press to trepan your nostrils

He won't drill a hole in my skull no matter how many times I ask. Not even a tiny one. Enthusiastic consent right here, baby, but no trepanning. Bah. (Also, he actually got rid of the drill press. I think it was so he would have a plausible excuse for not drilling a hole in my head. But I know there are other drills in the attic. And garage. And probably the basement.)

He won't drill a hole in my skull no matter how many times I ask. Not even a tiny one.

And yet he says he loves you.

And yet he says he loves you.

That is -- verbatim -- what I say to him when he refuses to drill just a tiny hole to let out the sinus demons.

(Actually, I have a hilariously low pain threshold.)

(I mean, I still ask Tim to drill a hole in my skull to let the sinus demons out, but I am a pansy when it comes to pain.)

(I'm aware of the amusing irony of me saying that.)

{{Laura}} and {{Maria}} I'm glad no one is hurt, but it still sucks.

He won't drill a hole in my skull no matter how many times I ask. Not even a tiny one

I would love a tiny hole on each side of my face right now. My sinuses are throbbing. Speaking of which, how do I know when it has turned into sinus infection and I should go see the doc?

ChiKat, I usually know I have an infection when I blow my nose and the snot is in technicolor. Also, if I have a nasty metallic taste in my mouth.