Sweet-talker

I live with a family of allergy babies.  And by babies, I mean whiny, cry-baby, wimps.  It’s a beautiful spring day.  Can I open the windows and let the breeze in?  Nope.   “Close that window!  You’re going to let all the pollen in!”  Owww… There’s an extra couple of bucks in the check book, maybe I can buy a new read or some yarn.  Nope.   “My throat itches.  Where are the allergy pills?”  There goes another $30 on stupid allergy meds just so you can breathe better, whatever.

I’ve always felt pretty lucky to have escaped the trappings on their season pity party.

Unfortunately, it looks like they are going to have to make room at the table for one more runny nosed, itchy, sneezing complainer.

I was pleasantly minding my own business on Sunday night when it all began.

Rub eye.  Rub it again.  Blink, blink, blink.  Rub eye.  Rub other eye.  Eye begins dripping.  Drip, drip, drip.  What the hell?

Itch arm.  Itch arm again.  Scratch the heck out of arm.  What are those bumps on my arm?

Drip, drip.  That darn eye.  Wait, that’s my nose.  Oh hell….

I’m going to go to bed and pretend none of this is happening.

Wake up Monday….  Sniffle, drip, sniffle, drip.  How can a nose be clogged and runny at the same time?  Itch, scratch, itch, scratch.  Great, the bumps are still there.  If the bumps are on my arm, why does the back of my throat itch?  Can I even scratch that?  Crap, now my eye is leaking again.

This is stupid.  I don’t have allergies.  This is NOT happening to me.  It’s just a spring cold.  People still get those, right?  Yes, spring cold.  I just need some extra sleep.  I’m going to bed.

Wake up Tuesday….  Now I know I’m awake, so why can’t I see anything?  What’s on my eyes?  Sweet, they are crusted shut.  Is crusted a word?  It is now.  I lose few eyelashes, but I finally get my eyes open.  Now I’m wishing I hadn’t.  Not only are my crusted over, but they are also swollen.  The left one more so than the right.  Uneven, swollen, puffy, crusty eyes….very attractive.  And to add to the look, the crustys have traveled to my nose where a mixture of a running and bleeding nose has created a Jackson Pollack-esk rendition on my face and hand.  My throat still itches and I still can’t scratch it.  Plus, now my head feels like it’s in a vice grip.  Ugh!

At that exact moment, my super sensitive husband walked in.

Me – “I feel like shit.”

IP – “You look like shit!”

Me – “Thanks”

I see IP has been attending his charm school classes again.  Heck, with wooing words like that, he could teach the courses.

Now, could someone please point me in the direction of the nearest bottles of Zyrtec and Allegra…. and close that window while you’re at it!

 

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