I quickly looked down, but this isn’t the kind of thing you can un-see. I took a deep breath, looked up, exhaled and resumed listening to the sermon.
Other people began noticing. I watched them look on in horror. My shoulders began to bounce.
After a few minutes, it quickly lost its amusement and turned gross. I gagged. Then laughed at myself for gagging. I gag-laughed.
I snorted. My husband encouraged me to pull myself together in the form of a hand squeezing my knee. I am ridiculously ticklish. I let out a squeak. Never has there been a more grotesque display of my lack of self-control.
So don’t pick your nose in church. Actually, just don’t pick your nose.