When I was a very little girl I woke up early from my nap, and in a fit of artistic endeavour drew all over the walls of my bedroom in blue crayon.
I am told that my mother was not best pleased.
While 'helping' her scrub the blue crayon off the wall for a while, I am told that I was spent my time ruminating on finding some way, any way, to get out of this irksome chore.
"Mommy, my nose is sore."
It worked too!
Mom, after working on the ceiling all weekend, I have to say, with the utmost honesty, that my nose is sore.
That respirator mask is some uncomfy.
There is justice in the end.