The Rites Of Spri…err, Winter

Oh, for the love of all that’s holy…

Do I really need allergies…now?!

It’s the middle of freakin’ winter!

When I was younger, I had not a single allergy. Not one. If I was sniffling and sneezing, it was because I was trying to get out of work not because anything was actually wrong.

For my first few years living around here it was the same thing. Then the allergies started to build. Nowadays, spring just sucks donkey balls. I pop Zyrtec like they’re tictacs, and I’ve completely resigned myself to not tasting a goddamned thing until about the end of June.

Now, normally this problem shouldn’t kick off until, oh, April or so. So why is it happening in February?

Good question.

For the last two-three weeks, it has been anything but February around here: temps in the sixties, clear skies, cool nights…

The trees and plants are even more confused than the people. Everything is starting to bud and grow and turn green, but only in a kind of half-hearted and slow way. It’s like the plants feel bad about the whole thing – not to mention knowing better – but it’s sunny and warm and what the fuck are you gonna do anyway?

Damned plants.

All I know is I’m sniffing like Pacino in Scarface, I can feel my sinuses turning to cement blocks, and my eyes haven’t been this red since my sophomore year in college…

How the hell do you concentrate with all this going on? Poor Connor…does anyone else get the feeling I’m going to punish him for my misery? I sure do.

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