Something in my yard is out to get me.
I sneezed over 78 times today. After that, I lost count. And leave it to my 2-year-old to laugh and make fun of me, running around the house and mimicking me while I’m in the midst of a violent sneezing fit. Little turd.
Apparently, I’m allergic to something. Bad part is, I don’t even know where to begin. It’s like a game of nature-themed Clue outside right now, trying to figure out who’s the culprit. In my yard alone there are over ten varieties of tulips, seven varieties of daffodils, eight varieties of roses, handrangeas, various ornamental grasses, a peach tree, a magnolia tree, a lilac bush, grape vines, ornamental pear blossoms, and several dozen other plants and assorted foliage that I can’t even begin to identify. Hell, the only reason I knew the items on the list above is because the former owners left behind a list of some of the things they planted.
And right now, everything is blooming.
I didn’t always have allergies. Growing up, I never remember having any issues. Except for the occasional cold or flu, and one bout of mono that landed me in the hospital for three days the summer before my sophomore year of high school, I was a pretty healthy kid. I never even had the chicken pox!
It wasn’t until my college years that I began to suffer seasonal allergies. Just about the time that the prettiest flowers started blossoming, my sinuses would revolt and close up tighter than a Venus Flytrap. Boy, I tell ya, there’s nothing sexier than a girl whose face is perpetually damp from the steady flow of liquid draining from both eyes and nostrils. Add a layer of redness around the nose, bloodshot eyes, and enough phlegm to fill a small bathtub and I start looking like one of the animated corpses from The Walking Dead.
I thought it must be something on the East coast–some sort of tree or flower that I just wasn’t used to, sending my sinuses into overdrive–but even now, after moving to Arizona and settling back in Nebraska, the allergies return like clockwork every spring.
Damn you beautiful foliage! I love you, but my clogged head hates you. Can’t we strike a truce?
Until then, I’ll pop a Zyrtec (no more make-me-jittery-and-keep-me-all-night-clenching-my-teeth-ClaritinD for me thanks), and pray that I can make it through another spring without sneezing so hard I pop a blood vessel.
Wish me luck.