Riding home on the subway tonight, I noticed a man staring at me. Not furtive glances mind you but full force, no shame no game staring. The narcissist in me thought, "Meow. I must be lookin' good" and continued to hum along to my ipod while occasionally darting a look out of the corner of my eye to see if I still had an audience. A few minutes later my stop arrived. Staring man and I got off of the subway--he going his way, me going mine. I didn't give it a second thought until I stepped into the elevator up to my apartment. I glanced in the mirror on the back of the elevator wall and immediately noticed something on my face. Something high up on my cheekbone, near the corner of my eye. Oh good glory. Oh...no...no...and there it was, beyond denial: A giant booger stuck to the side of my face. It would have been a little more manageable had it been my booger. But I am certain it was not. I would bet money that it was M's booger, a student in my last class of the day. M with the perpetually snotty nose. M who likes to wrap his arms around me. M who likes to touch my face. M who has now caused me to throw up a little bit in my mouth. Sigh.
And so, if you ever find yourself thinking, "Man, that Krisanne. What a glamorous life she must live in South Korea," rest assured, you are right.