The Cruelest Season

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Spring:  season of rebirth, renewal.  Season of Hell.

I know, funny coming from me, the girl who wishes more fervently for warm weather than I wish cash grew on trees…well, almost.  But my house right now is not awash in joy.  We are awash in…how to put this…nasal secretions.  It does seem to be a never-ending constantly renewing natural resource.

I imagine the sounds coming from all three bedrooms in the morning must be akin to what London sounded like during the Great Plague.  I check the front door every morning to see if a city official has marked our house with a red X.

Don’t get me wrong folks – Spring is beautiful and bountiful – and I feel great.  It’s just that the other three members of my family are: hacking, sneezing, wheezing, coughing, scratching, blinking, and complaining.

Mind you, since we got Mad Alyss last August, The Man has been making all of these noises and more but oddly, without complaint.  Because he loves the cat.  He has been stoically enduring allergy and asthma symptoms that would have sent me to my grave long ago.  I’ve gotten quite used to checking his pulse in the middle of the night…

The other members of the clan are not so stoic.  They peer at me with red, bleary eyes and declare themselves unable to cope a minute longer.  I have bought out local supplies of:  Benadryl, Claritin, Reactine, and Mentos (a placebo that works quite effectively at shutting up the complaints).  I have injected sea water nose drops, rubbed Vapour Rub, and I have smelling salts on stand by (joking).  The vodka is for me.

Mother Nature mocks the sufferers with beautiful sunny weather.  Outside our bedroom window, our maple tree looks about to explode, its green buds fat with yellow-green pollen.  We keep the curtains drawn so as not to cause undue mental distress along with the respiratory.

It pleases my housemates not that I fail to suffer with them (although I do a little – but shhhhh).  I can’t say I let it get to me as I walk outside and gulp deep breaths of air without rushing for a kleenex.  They can still shoot daggers with those bleary eyes.  Ah, Spring….bring on the relief of hot humid weather (and a new chapter of complaints)!

 

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