The sneezes are.

 Upon dividing up the seven dwarves, I am almost always Sneezy (unless my brother Anthony is involved to whom I then come to a close second).  No one wants to be Sneezy.  Everyone wants to be Doc, or Grumpy, someone with a little more screen time that actually has a well rounded character.  Or even Dopey because he's just so gosh darn cute. But never Sneezy. 

Yet I am usually thusly dubbed, due to numerous airborne pathogens or other unforeseen enemies whose alliances I am not privy to that ail my immune system, or at the very least my sinuses, causing my body to believe a constant state of congestion is its stasis.  And I smile and take my title, brandishing it with pride while deep inside wishing I could be another, like Sleepy - at least he gets to have dreams.  And though this last semester I did have my bouts with whatever it is that makes my sinuses decide to have a snot party, I thought I was, comparatively, out of the clear, almost to a point of congestive normalcy.   I could breathe through my nose, I wasn't constantly weighted down by a box of tissues or a roll of toilet paper, and my life was all rainbows and sunshine.

Then I come home.  After being abroad, I am warmly greeted with large, loving embraces by my mom, my dad, and a wave of dust.  This fiend is accumulated from the remodeling project my dad is finishing up - which my only allowance for disclosure is "It's coming along.  It's in progress."  But I would not let it get the better of me, so with a box of tissues in one hand and bottle of Pledge with dust rag in the other, I counter attacked.  No surface was safe from me.  No bed sheets were clear from my judgment and conviction.  No carpet was saved from Chester the vacuum (who I've named only for purpose of this blog, having a name makes him seem fiercer).  And no hardwood floor could escape my swifter.  I was going to be the sole victor in my genocidal war against dust.

I have not been without my losses.  Many a good tissues have sacrificed their short, predetermined lives for the sanctity of my nose.  But they will not be forgotten.  Upon their lives I build a brighter tomorrow and a larger compost pile due to their biodegradability.  From dust were we made, and dust we will be.

That is, until I get through with them.