You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
Allergy Season.
The wind is blowing, and I’m suffering.
Invisible particulates of death are in the air.
They are dive bombing my nasal passages, blowing up my throat and mucous membrane.
Achew.
God Bless You.
I’m sneezing like an angry fog horn.
Over and over and over. I’m a machine gun of snot blowing my brains into a Kleenex.
I just asked someone to scratch my eyes.
Please take me out of my misery.
They looked at me like “What’s that boy been smoking?”
I’ll smoke a pack of Zyrtek if it gives me some damn relief.
I guess it’s that time of year.
The temperatures are in the high 60’s. the sun is shining, trees are budding, and cats are making love behind my house in a whaling crescendo of feline fun.
Yes it is Spring and the invisible assailants of misery are using my respiratory system as their own personal punching bag.
I’m sneezing and wheezing and basically drowning in a viscous stew of my own disgusting bodily fluids.
I sneezed so many times last night, I thought my heart was going to stop.
“someone bring that boy a defibrillator” I thought I heard someone scream.
I sneezed so loudly, the neighbors thought the SWAT team had kicked in their door.
I sneezed so many times, my girlfriend called a Priest and asked me if I wanted to vomit pea soup.
My nose is so uniquely red, Cover Girl wants to name a new lipstick color after it.
Nostril blood vessel red.
My nasal passages are more clogged than a Danish Dancing convention in Holland.
My air intake is limited, like an obese porpoise with a swollen blow hole.
My nose is so raw, so red, so inflamed, I belong on leper island.
My eye balls itch like a marriage after 7 years. They are raw like an adult diaper that has not been changed in a week. My baby blues feel like they have been rolling in a poison ivy patch, using a paprika loufa to douche.
Scratch my God Damn Eyes, I shout.
Nobody is willing to just get in there and use their nails and itch my corneas until they bleed.
I don’t blame them.
So my options are write amazingly bad sentences comparing my symptoms to Jack The Ripper or call a doctor.
So I called the doctor and they said can you come at 9am?
I said, I’ll pitch a tent and wait in your lobby.
“OK, see you then,” the lady chuckles hanging up the phone.
So, till then, I will blow my nose with an 8 pack of charmin.
Scratch my eyes damn it.
Life’s Crazy.