I hadn't felt too good.
In fact, I felt bloody awful.
Hell of a cold, nose feeling like it had a block of concrete stuck up it.
I was the very definition of “mouth-breather”, for that was just about all I could manage.
Grasping a handful of Kleenex, I decided to give it one final blow before I slammed my head in the oven door.
HONK! Honk HONK HO-O-O-O-O-O-O-NK
And out it came.
A pasta tube.
A foul-smelling pasta tube, for I hadn't eaten pasta tubes in several weeks.
What, I ask, have I done in my life for that to happen?