IF YOU MET ME FOR THE FIRST TIME at 7:00 in the morning you would think that I was the great-grandson of “Typhoid Mary” (Look it up). For reasons known only to God and the makers of Kleenex I tend to go on a sneezing jag most mornings. It doesn’t matter that I may feel fine and am infectious microbe free. I sneeze.
For a good 45 seconds up to a half hour I look like I am possessed by demons as I lurch and make disgusting noises. Nobody wants to shake my hand in the morning. Hey, I wouldn’t want to shake my own hand.