Welcome spring, or as we highly allergic to pollen types call it, Zombie Season.
This is the time of year when blossoms appear on the trees. bright green grasses begin to poke their way out of the soil, and yours truly stocks up on tissues, Zyrtec, and those anti-itching eyedrop things. Each of which represents a mixed blessing.
Especially Zyrtec. In Zombie Season I have basically two choices: I can a) not take the Zyrtec, die from lack of oxygen or b) take the Zyrtec and live, but only if you call slouching around in a perpetual fog "living."
The fog is made worse by the sudden attacks of falling asleep on one's feet. And the falling asleep is made worse by the psychotic nightmares I get whenever I take one of these anti-allergy drugs.
And I mean, totally psycho. Axe murderers, serial killers, retellings of the John Barleycorn legend. (Those are the worst.) I wonder if Alfred Hitchcock had springtime allergies. I bet he did.
Anyway, if you happen to bump into me on the street and I have a certain glazed look, at least know you know why. It's nothing personal. It's pollen.
I should have that made into a tee shirt.