A story about why men get colds

I know this isn't poem but my story has been the deep dark secret that I was only reminded of in the forums recently when someone asked for confessions!

After a particularly long standed row with my (now ex-) husband I was slamming round the kitchen preparing for a dinner party we were having that evening. (As the devil appeared on my shoulder) A wild and wonderful thought appeared in my mind. I drew all the Flem I could muster out of the back of my throat (and being a forty a day smoker at the time trust me it wasn't pleasant), I rolled it into a lovely ball and spat it into the lasagna dish (we were each having individual dishes) that was going to hold his fitful feast.

The snot laced lasagna bubbled away nicely in the oven as I greeted my guests with the face of an angel and when it came to dishing up I took great pride in taking everyone else's meals through first saving the delightfulness of my lungs for my beloved till last.

Unfortunately, my brother in law took it upon himself to give his own dish to my husband to get 'stuck in' as my husband had been working in the garden to get the front straight for our guests arriving. Leaving me a choice ...... either eat my own snot or give it to my brother in law.

Needless to say he came down with terrible cold and I couldn't look him in the eye for a good few weeks.